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"Giuseppe Mazzini Carville," he returned, and before we fully realized the stupendous possibilities which this implied the younger child raised his eyes to our faces. "Want to know my name too?" he queried, not a quiver of an eyelid to show any self-consciousness. "Of course," I said; "what is it?" We waited an instant, breathlessly.
Look! He pointed to where a barge, brought up on the tide, lay stranded in a field of shining mud. 'That is the Ark, but Noah and all the animals save we are dead. I have none of the Dutchman's love for dikes and canals. I shall go to the Mediterranean. 'And Carville? I said. He cackled. 'Carville will go to the devil, I suppose. You are to blame. You have recalled memories, I understand.
The young man addressed as mister made several incoherent remarks of a technical nature, and with a glance in my direction withdrew. "Sit down," said Mr. Carville, shutting the door. "You'll excuse me for a minute?" I sat down on a red plush settee while my host settled into a wicker easy chair by a small desk. The room by our computation would be small, yet I perceived that Mr.
With the slap-dash economy of effort which he had learned of Van Roon, when that ill-fated genius was in Chelsea, Mac had caught the salient curves and angles of Mrs. Carville as she stooped over her scaldino, had caught to a surprising degree the sombre expression of her face and the tigerish energy of her crouched body.
The car jingled and swayed round the corners, keeping close to the shore, and pulled up with a jerk at New Brighton. Across the narrow belt of water I could see the sterns of many ships. "Here we are," said Mr. Carville. "The launch starts down there." A stiff breeze was blowing and we were occupied with our hats until we reached the Communipaw side. Mr.
I waited until the doors banged and the train was moving before I said, "In what way, Mr. Carville?" "Mind you, it may not impress you in any way like Venice " "I regret never to have been there," I interrupted. "You may," he assented. "You may. A man can do easy enough without ever seeing Naples; but Venice ah!" "Yes, I can imagine that," I said, "but in what way ?"
He always had an unconventional way of getting what he wanted. It was no use talking to him; he simply doesn't see what you mean. I I wonder what he's going to do next." "He might pay a visit over here," I said tentatively. Mr. Carville gave me a quick glance. "I shouldn't like that at all," he said, shaking his head. "You see ... I might be away ... I shouldn't like it at all."
"With pleasure," I said hastily. It occurred to me that I could do worse than visit Mr. Carville's ship. We boarded a trolley-car. "You see," said Mr. Carville, "I'm interested in Staten Island. In a way it's very English. About a year ago I bought a lot up at Richmond Bridge. The house will be ready in the spring and we'll move in. I've had a fancy for a long while to have a home of my own.
"He was telling us some of his experiences at sea, you know. It was very interesting." "I do not like the sea," she said steadily. "It made me sick ..." "So it did me. But I enjoy hearing about foreign lands; Italy, for instance." "This is all right," Mrs. Carville replied in the same even tone. "Here." "And he will be back soon?" I said, reverting to Mr. Carville.
The problem of chairs was instantly solved by Bill. She opened the window and she and Miss Fraenkel sat inside. Mr. Carville studied the toe of his plain serviceable boot while these arrangements were being carried out. He sat motionless in the Fourth Chair, and I could not help feeling that the business of transferring Miss Fraenkel established Mr. Carville's inalienable right to his seat.
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