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He knew many people, went to many places; she was proud of his social progress. So undisturbed was she that as she walked to the theatre she smiled to herself, a sly, soft smile. How surprised the lady would be if she knew that the shabby girl unnoticed on the curb was Boye Mayer's choice the Rosamund of his bower, the inmate of his secret garden.
"and here Foloweth an account of the curcumstances, age and sexes of those people, thare Is two famles Consisting of fifteen In Number, the whole to witt. Benoni Melanso with his wife of about fourty four or five years of age, and they have seven children thre Boyes and four Girlls, the Eldest Girl about 17 years old, the boye Next about 15 years old, Sickly.
I smother in 'em." He threw back the window and stood in the opening. "I'll shut it in a minute." She pulled up the Navajo blanket and cowering under it said with vengeful zest: "I guess there won't be a more surprised person in this burg than Mr. Boye Mayer when they come after him." "Do you know when they're calculatin' to do it?" "Thursday or Friday.
That done, she suddenly dropped down and lying with her head against his knee, her face turned from the firelight, she told him how Boye Mayer had come to her in the dawn, and how he lay buried in the ruins of the Vallejo Hotel. There was no interchange of vows, no whispered assurances and shy confessions, between Lorry and Mark.
He saw them looking at him from the face of Boye Mayer, standing in Lorry's drawing-room with his hands resting on the back of a chair. He stopped dead, staring ahead. Lorry's summons, the tramp, the man in evening dress against the background of the rich room all these drew to a single point.
At one moment she thrilled with the anticipation of meeting such a personage, and at the next drooped to fears that she might disappoint his fastidious taste. That night she answered the letter, writing it over several times: MR. BOYE MAYER, DEAR FRIEND: Thanks for the flowers. They're grand. I ain't ever before had such beautys espechully the ones that matched my dress.
Instead of standing there slanging me you ought to go home and take a rest." She paid no attention to this suggestion, but suddenly, moving nearer, said: "What did you do it for, Boye?" "Do what?" "Make love to me make me think you loved me. Why did you come? Why did you say what you did? Why did you kiss me? Why, when you saw the way I felt, did you keep on? What good was it to you?"
"Taalwurt djanga neyp bomb-gur, kyle-gut Taalwurt neyp bomb-gur: Waum djanga Taalwurt matta boorn boola bomb-gur: Taalwurt yoor-ril watto, waum djunga nar-rail ngob-barn boye koombar bomb-gar." "Along the beach was walking Taalwurt; one of the dead struck him under the ear. Taalwurt then very slightly struck this one of the dead; under the ear Taalwurt very lightly struck him.
It's not my custom to see ladies up here." "Don't talk like that to me, Boye," she said, the huskiness of her tone deepening. "Don't put on style and act like you didn't know me. We're past that." He shrugged. "Answer for yourself, Pancha. Believe me, I'm not at all past conforming to the usages of civilized people."
Boye Mayer, advancing up the path, saw she had seen him and drew near, watchfully amused. Almost abreast of him she directed her glance from the shrubs to his face. Surprise at the encounter was conveyed by a slight lifting of her brows, pleasure and greeting by a smile and inclination of the head. Then she would have passed on, but he came to a stop in front of her.
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