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Updated: May 20, 2025
Why should I rush to the police-station and say, 'Here I'll blurt out all I know everything! Why?" "Wouldn't that be better than knowing that people are saying things?" she asked. "As to that," replied Ransford, "you can't prevent people saying things especially in a town like this. If it hadn't been for the unfortunate fact that Braden came to the surgery door, nothing would have been said.
Tresslyn telephoned a few minutes ago, sir." "Ah! That she would be late?" "No, sir. To inquire if—ahem!—if Mr. Braden was likely to be here this afternoon." Anne started violently. A quick, hunted expression leaped into her eyes as she looked about her. Something rushed up into her throat, something that smothered. "You informed her, of course, that Mr.
He could not be cured himself, but he wanted to be sure that Braden was cured before he passed away. He knew that his grandson would not come home until the last vestige of love and respect for Anne Tresslyn was gone; not until he was sure that his wound had healed beyond all danger of bleeding again. Mr. Thorpe was satisfied that he had served his grandson well.
If I were to discover now that you do not care for me, Braden, and if I could buy your love, which is the most precious thing in the world to me, I would not hesitate a second to pay out every dollar I have in—" "Stop!" he cried eagerly, drawing a step nearer and fixing her with a look that puzzled and yet thrilled her.
Braden, it was—it was terrible!" The man's face was livid. "A great sum of money—" began Braden dumbly. Then the truth struck him like a blow in the face. "Good God, Wade,—he—he wanted you to kill him!" "That's it, sir, that's it," whispered Wade jerkily. "He has an envelope up there with fifty thousand dollars in it.
That is, the firm represents her, and I'm one of the firm." "I don't see how you can represent both of us, old chap." "That's just what I'm trying to get into your head. I couldn't represent you if there was to be a fight with Anne. But we can fight these idiotic charities, can't we?" "No," said Braden flatly. "My grandfather's will is to stand just as it is, Simmy. I shall not contest for a cent.
"She would go back on her contract like a shot if she thought that I intended to include you among my scientific charities," interrupted the old man. "Oh, if I could only have an hour—half an hour with her," groaned Braden. "I could overcome the vile teaching of her mother and bring her to a realisation of what is ahead of her.
I wish to assure her, in the presence of all of you, that I was as completely ignorant of all this—" "I know it, Braden," interrupted Anne. "I know that you had nothing to do with it. And for that reason I feel that you should accept the trust that is—" "Anne!" cried out Braden, incredulously. "You cannot mean it. You—" "I do mean it," she said firmly. "It is your greatest justification.
For weeks after the death of Templeton Thorpe and the publication of his will, not a day passed in which Braden Thorpe's outlandish assault upon civilisation failed to receive its country-wide attention in the press.
While Braden was experimenting in London, this doddering, senile old gentleman of Washington Square began to experiment a little on his own account. He set out to discover just what sort of stuff this Anne Tresslyn was made of and to prove to himself that she was worthy of his grandson's love. He began with the girl's mother. As soon as possible, he explained to her that money is a curse.
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