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Updated: May 24, 2025
The cat did not move, as they came up; did not give the gallant "Mrwr" with which she had saluted Milt on lonely morning after morning of forlorn driving behind the Gomez. He picked Vere up. "She's she's dead," he said. He was crying. "Oh, Milt Last night you said Vere was all the family you had. You have the Boltwoods, now!"
She did not touch his hand, nor did they speak as they walked soberly to the far side of the corral, and buried Lady Vere de Vere. At breakfast they talked of the coming day's run, from the canyon out of the Park, and northward. But they had the queer, quick casualness of intimates. It was at breakfast that her father heard one Milt Daggett address the daughter of the Boltwoods as "Claire."
"No, you don't! I've accepted you. Do you think I'm going to lose the one real playmate I've ever had? It was so lonely on the Boltwoods' brown stoop till Milt came along and whistled impertinently and made the solemn little girl in frills play marbles and Watch out for that turn! Heavens, how I have to look after you! Is there a class in cooking at your university? No do not kiss me on a turn!"
I wonder As I say, my dear fellow, I've taken the greatest fancy to you, and I do hope you won't think I'm too intimate if I say that I imagine that even in your charming friendship with Miss Boltwood, you've probably never learned what important people the Boltwoods are. I thought I'd tell you so that you could realize the privilege both you and I have in knowing them.
Quite a few folks to carry on the business. Gosh, look at that building ahead nine stories!" He had planned to stop at a hotel, to wash up, and to gallop to Claire. But well wouldn't it maybe be better to leave the car at a public garage, so the Boltwoods could get it when they wanted to? He'd better "just kind of look around before he tackled the watch-dog."
Make little coffee," said Milt. He did not desire coffee, and he did not desire to stop, but he did desperately desire not to inflict Pinky Parrott upon the Boltwoods. It was in his creed as a lover of motors never to refuse a ride to any one, when he had room. He hoped to get around his creed by the hint implied in stopping.
But there were few signs that a suite had been engaged for the Boltwoods, or that Prince Collars and Cuffs had on his royal tour of America spent much time in Gopher Prairie. Claire reached it somewhat before seven. She gaped at it in a hazy way. Though this was her first prairie town for a considerable stay, she could not pump up interest.
If you aren't Want granite or marble for the headstone? I mean it, now!" "I quite understand, my lad. I admire your chivalric delicacy. Farewell, old compagnon de voyage!" Milt inquired of Mr. Barmberry whether the Boltwoods were within, and burst into the parlor-living-room-library.
At the double door of the dining-room, from which the cabbage smell steamed with a lustiness undiminished by the sad passing of its youth, a man, one of the average-sized, average-mustached, average business-suited, average-brown-haired men who can never be remembered, stopped the Boltwoods and hawed, "Saw you coming into town. You've got a New York license?" She couldn't deny it.
The Boltwoods invited him to dinner at one hotel, but he refused and Because he was afraid that Claire would find him intrusive, Milt was grave in her presence.
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