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I should say Bethany himself was the only one in the dark. There's no doubt Lady Rose was to blame!" Mr. Pendyce was speaking. Mrs. Bellew smiled. "My sympathies are all with Lady Rose. What do you say, George?" George frowned. "I always thought," he said, "that Bethany was an ass." "George," said Mr. Pendyce, "is immoral. All young men are immoral. I notice it more and more.
"You're only forty-eight. Do you realize that my grandfather, sir, your father, old Isaac Bellew, killed a man with his fist when he was sixty-nine years old?" John Bellew grinned and swallowed his medicine. "Avuncular, I want to tell you something important. I was raised a Lord Fauntleroy, but I can outpack you, outwalk you, put you on your back, or lick you with my fists right now."
Glancing in the direction she indicated, Bellew observed a tall figure, very straight and upright, clad in a tight-fitting blue coat, with extremely tight trousers strapped beneath the insteps, and with a hat balanced upon his close-cropped, grizzled head at a perfectly impossible angle for any save an ex-cavalry-man.
"What!" Bellew didn't move, nor did he raise his voice, nevertheless Adam started back, and instinctively threw up his arm. "You told her that?" "I did sir." "But you knew it was a confounded lie." "Aye, I knowed it. But I'd tell a hundred, ah! thousands o' lies, con-founded, or otherwise, to save Miss Anthea." "To save her?" "From ruination, sir!
She was telling me, last night, when I was in bed, she always comes to tuck me up, you know, an' she told me she was 'fraid we'd have to sell Dapplemere an' go to live somewhere else. So I asked why, an' she said ''cause she hadn't any money, an' 'Oh Georgy! she said, 'oh Georgy, if we could only find enough money to pay off the the " "Mortgage?" suggested Bellew, at a venture.
Had I the time, I should be delighted to explain to you exactly how much, as it is allow me to wish you a very good evening." Mr. Cassilis smiled, and his teeth seemed to gleam whiter, and sharper than ever in the moon-light: "Wouldn't it be rather more apropos if you said 'Good-bye' Mr. Bellew?" he enquired. "You are leaving Dapplemere, shortly, I understand, aren't you?"
George felt the ground with his feet, and blew a speck of dust off his barrels, and the smell of the oil sent a delicious tremor darting through him. Everything, even Helen Bellew, was forgotten. Then in the silence rose a far-off clamour; a cock pheasant, skimming low, his plumage silken in the sun, dived out of the green and golden spinney, curled to the right, and was lost in undergrowth.
He can out-travel and out-endure an Indian, and he's never known any other life but that of the wild and the frost." "Who's that?" Captain Consadine broke in from across the table. "Big Olaf," she answered. "I was just telling Mr Bellew what a traveller he is." "You're right," the Captain's voice boomed. "Big Olaf is the greatest traveller in the Yukon.
And Bellew stood staring down at the rug again, till aroused by Baxter's cough: "Pray sir, what are your orders, the car is waiting downstairs?" "Orders? why er pack your grip, Baxter, I shall take you with me, this time, into Arcadia, Baxter." "For how long, sir?" "Probably a week." "Very good, sir." "It is now half-past three, I must be back in Dapplemere at eight.
"All couples promenade to the bar!" was the caller's last cry as the music stopped. And the couples were so promenading through the wide doorway into the main room the men in furs and moccasins, the women in soft fluffy dresses, silk stockings, and dancing-slippers when the double storm-doors were thrust open, and Smoke Bellew staggered wearily in. Eyes centered on him, and silence began to fall.
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