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Updated: June 10, 2025
Colonel Wincott and Xoa were on the porch, lighted by the great, red torch whose radiance was flung afar by the reflector aid of the fog. "It's Britt's house and Britt is in it," he told them. "Colonel, your man Friday had over many times one text that fits this thing. 'Can a man take fire into his bosom, and his clothing not be burned?" He went to Xoa and patted her arm.
"It was stuck under my door by Bromley, who said that Miss Pelham gave it to her. Miss Pelham referred me to Mr. Britt and Mr. Britt urged me to keep the letter for future reference. I think he said it could be used as Exhibit A. Then he advised me to beat you only in the presence of witnesses." "The whole household must be going mad," cried Genevra with a laugh.
When he put on his overcoat and went forth, Prophet Elias popped out of the door of Usial's cot like the little gowned figure of a toy barometer. Britt waved his hand in cheerful greeting. "Prophet Elias, hand me that text about the way of the transgressor being a hard one to travel, and I'll take it in a meek and lowly spirit and be much obliged."
After a few moments Britt opened the door; he had an iron poker in his hand. Vaniman marched in. "You don't need any weapon, sir." "I think I do, judging from the way you came rushing into this building. Vaniman, I protest. I have said my say to your attorney. I have nothing more to add." "I'm not here to try the case, Mr. Britt.
Van Lennop had no desire for food, much less for conversation, so he picked up the travel-worn newspaper which Britt had tossed upon the table and glanced at the headlines. The stock market was stronger. Nevada Con was up three points. The girl with the beautiful eyebrows had married that French jackanapes after all. Another famine in India. A Crowheart date-line caught his eye.
Britt dropped into a chair, mopping his face. "Oh, no, nothing wrong; but I'm afraid I've made a little mistake. I'm not a good business man not systematic though I worry along. Like the young wife's bookkeeping 'Received fifty dollars from John spent it all. Fact is, I never entirely got over the days when a very short memory was enough to keep track of all my transactions.
When President Britt of the new Egypt Trust company went down to a business college in the city in search of a cashier, he quizzed candidates in quest of what he termed "foolish notions." Young Mr.
Britt had received convincing evidence that the rhapsody of composition makes morsels of hours and gulps days in two bites. But he had completed five stanzas. He concluded that they would do, though he had planned on five more. Glancing over his composition, he decided that it might be better to leave the matter a bit vague, just as the poem left it at the end of the fifth stanza.
Britt cleared his throat. "Not for half a second," he said. "I'm only wondering if Bowles has authority to grant divorces." "I daresay he has," said Deppingham, tugging at his moustache. "He's he's a magistrate." "It doesn't follow," said Chase, "that he has unlimited legal powers." "But what are they ragging him about down there, Chase," blurted out the unhappy Deppingham.
He beheld the two young folks exchanging looks that gave to their simple words an import which roused all his fury. Britt shook himself free from all restraint. He had been assured by the Harndens that their home was his haven; he took advantage of that assurance and of the young man's more dubious standing in the household.
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