United States or Burkina Faso ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"That chicken will delight her, but I really believe she's in love with West," said Trent. Then walking over to the bed: "See here, old man, no dodging, you know, how much have you left?" The other hesitated and flushed. "Come, old chap," insisted Trent. Braith drew a purse from beneath his bolster, and handed it to his friend with a simplicity that touched him.
"Why should I not refresh my drooping spirits by adoring Lisette Cos " "Oh, come, you said that before," said Gethryn. "You're getting to be a bore, Clifford." "You at least can no longer reproach me," said the other, with a quick look that increased Gethryn's embarrassment. "Let him talk his talk of bewitching grisettes, and gay students," said Braith, more angry than Rex had ever seen him.
"He speaks in parables," laughed Clifford, halfway downstairs, and the two took up the catch they had improvised, singing, "Lisette Cosette Ninette " in thirds more or less out of tune, until Gethryn shut the door on the last echoes that came up from the hall below. Gethryn came back and sat down, and Braith took a seat beside him, but neither spoke. Braith had his pipe and Rex his cigarette.
That last visit to the Rue Monsieur le Prince was never mentioned between them. They were as cordial when they met as ever, but Braith did not visit his young friend any more, and Gethryn never spoke to him of Yvonne. "Good-bye, old chap!" Braith would say when they parted, gripping Rex's hand and smiling at him. But Rex did not see Braith's face as he walked away. Braith felt helpless.
To renew his acquaintance with Mr Bulfinch was the last thing Braith desired, but since the meeting had been thrust upon him he thanked Gethryn's tact for removing such a witness of it as Clifford would have been. He had no intention, however, of talking with the little Mirror man, and maintained a profound silence, smoking steadily.
The door did not quite close again and the voices and steps of his departing friends came echoing back as Braith raised a black-edged letter from the floor. It bore the postmark: Vernon. Twelve
"Suppose Braith should come to that," he thought; "poor little chap;" and hurrying, he turned in the dirty passage des Beaux Arts and entered the third house to the left. "Monsieur is at home," quavered the old concierge. Home? A garret absolutely bare, save for the iron bedstead in the corner and the iron basin and pitcher on the floor.
"The Quarter doesn't regard things in that light," said Gethryn, trying hard to laugh off the weight that oppressed him. "The Quarter is a law unto itself. Be a law unto yourself, Rex Good night, old chap." "Good night, Braith," said Gethryn slowly. Five Thirion's at six pm.
"He has been walking his legs off after you," began Clifford, but Braith cut him short with a brusque "Where were you, Rex?" Gethryn winced. "I'd rather I think" he began, slowly "Excuse me it's not my business," growled Braith, throwing himself into a seat and beginning to rub Mrs Gummidge the wrong way.
Presently he raised his head and looked into the street. It was dusk, and the lamps along the lake side were lighted. He had to light his candles to read by. The next was from Braith a short note. Everything is ready, Rex, your old studio cleaned and dusted until you would not know it. I have kept the key always by me, and no one but myself has ever entered it since you left.
Word Of The Day