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Updated: June 7, 2025
Then, at her glad cry, "Sh ... Mater! It isn't exactly what you think. I can't explain now. But it's a hope; it may I believe it will, one day lead to the thing we both want!" He folded it again carefully into its creases and put it back into his wallet and he was breathing hard. Ethel Bruce-Drummond was better than her word.
You can't beat L. A. High! and her eyes filled up with tears and she gave me her jolly little grin and said, "Oh, Miss Bruce-Drummond, I can hardly wait to get back to real living again!" Honor was honestly happy over her success.
The Englishwoman stared. "Really?" "Yes. I daresay I exaggerate, but I've always seen something sinister about that youth." Miss Bruce-Drummond looked at Carter Van Meter and observed the way in which he was looking at Honor. "He wants her frightfully, doesn't he, poor thing?" "He wants her frightfully but he isn't a poor thing in the very least.
"Of course, I'm not up on this at all, but I'm rather afraid your young friends are getting the worst of it, my dear!" said Miss Bruce-Drummond, cheerily. "It's the longest first half I ever saw in my life," said Honor, between clenched teeth. "Ah, yes, I daresay it does seem so to you, but I expect they keep the time very carefully, don't you?" She looked the girl over interestedly.
Miss Bruce-Drummond looked at her friend's stepdaughter. "You're frightfully keen about it, aren't you?" "Yes," said Honor, briefly. "I daresay I shall find it very different from Rugby, but I expect I shall be able to follow it if you'll explain a bit." Honor did not answer. She was standing up, yelling with all the strength of her lusty young lungs, as the Southern champions came out.
"I don't believe," cut in the fresh, crisp voice of Miss Bruce-Drummond, "that I quite understand what a 'down' is. Would you mind explaining it to me?" "Why," said Honor, without turning her head, "they have three downs in which to make " she was on her feet again, screaming, "Come on! Come on! Come oh "
The yell leaders, vehement, piercingly vocal, conducted them into thunderous challenges: Ali beebo! Ali by-bo! Ali beebo by-bo bum! Catch 'em in a rat trap, Put 'em in a cat trap, Catch 'em in a cat trap, Put 'em in a rat trap! Ali beebo! Ali by-bo! Ali beebo by-bo bum! The bleachers rocked and creaked and swayed with the rhythm of it. "My word!" said Miss Bruce-Drummond.
"I don't believe we ought to wait even a day, if she feels the altitude so," said Honor, troubled. "She's really very frail." "I expect she can stick it a day," said Miss Bruce-Drummond, calmly. "She looks fit enough. But I say where's the other one? Where's your boy?" The warm and happy color flooded the girl's face.
"But" said Miss Bruce-Drummond, her mouth close to Honor's ear "you haven't won, have you?" "Not yet!" Honor shouted. "Wait!" She began to sing with the rest: You can't beat L. A. High! You can't beat L. A. High! Use your team to get up steam, But you can't beat L. A. High! It was gay, mocking, scatheless, inexorable. You couldn't beat L. A. High. Honor swayed and swung to it.
In genuine friendship there is indeed no variableness, neither shadow or turning. You and I, now, might quite safely have taken out our friendship license and plighted our troth, twenty years, isn't it?" "Yes," said Miss Bruce-Drummond, gently, "it's twenty years, Stephen, and that's a quite beautiful idea. You must surely put it in your book, old dear."
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