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Updated: June 19, 2025
Even before Neergard's illness Ruthven's domestic and financial affairs were in a villainous mess. Rid of Neergard, he had meant to deal him a crashing blow at the breakaway which would settle him for ever and incidentally bring to a crisis his own status in regard to his wife. Whether or not his wife was mentally competent he did not know; he did not know anything about her. But he meant to.
"Come with me and I will prove to you that what I say is absolutely correct," he declared. "I have an old uncle out at Breakaway, and he will tell you about the fortune with his own lips I shall make him do so." "But is it far?" Tavia had demurred, for she did not just like that glassy stare in the man's eyes, handsome though he was.
"Ralph must have been well, in a pretty bad way, since he loved Nita and wanted to marry her," Dundee persisted painfully. "Remember that Polly Beale found him still there when she stopped to offer Nita a lift to Breakaway Inn. It is not hard to imagine what took place.
Boyle's willingness and ability to ignore the restrictions of an Establishment represent the full flowering of what I might call the Renaissance spirit the drive to go outside accepted bounds, to explore, to try, to avoid commitment, and to investigate for oneself. What internal and external factors permit a successful breakaway from tradition?
Now, all set." Merton Gill was about to leave this distressing scene but was held in spite of himself by the voice of a newcomer. "Hello, Jeff! Atta boy!" He knew without turning that the Montague girl was again at his elbow. He wondered if she could be following him. "Hello, Flips! How's the kid?" The producer had turned cordially to her. "Just in time for the breakaway stuff.
"The mysterious 'other young man' was Clive's brother, Ralph Hammond," Polly Beale cut in brusquely. "Your decision to lunch with your fiancé and his brother was quite a sudden one?" Dundee asked courteously. "Just when did you change your mind about Mrs. Selim's luncheon party at Breakaway Inn, Miss Beale?" The tall girl threw up her mannishly cropped, chestnut head.
He strode to the closet, searched for a moment among the multitude of garments hanging there, then emerged with the brown silk summer coat which Nita Selim had worn to Breakaway Inn that noon. Before the terrified woman's eyes he thrust a hand first into one deep pocket and then another, finding nothing except a handkerchief of fine embroidered linen and a pair of brown suede gauntlet gloves.
The men hesitated, stopped. Immediately the girls deposited Honey on the sand. "Did you notice the cleverness of that breakaway?" said Pete. "He couldn't have got a clinch in anywhere." But to do Honey justice, he attempted nothing of the sort. He lay flat and still until his rescuers were at a safe height. Then he sat up and smiled radiantly at them. "Ladies, I thank you," he said.
He was on top of the world, at the doorstep to space, looking down on fantastic activity below. The rocket curved sweetly away below him, down to the sharp lines of the great stabilizer fins. He noted the breakaway zone where the first stage and second stage were joined. He could see, as one perched on a cloud, the tiny, busy forms of men below.
Anyway, he needn't have come paradin' into the front office in his gym suit to show me his nutty theory of how Young Disko landed that knockout on the Australian in the breakaway. "Turn over!" says I. "You're on your back! He couldn't have done anything of the kind." "Couldn't, eh?" growls Swifty. "Ahr-r-r-r chee! Couldn't give him the shoulder on the jaw! Ain't I seen it done?
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