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You could guide him with silken threads. Oh, I know I'm enthusiastic, but if you don't buy him, Chris. I shall. Remember, I've second refusal." Chris smiled agreement as he changed the saddles. Meanwhile she compared the two horses. "Of course he doesn't match Dolly the way Ban did," she concluded regretfully; "but his coat is splendid just the same. And think of the horse that is under the coat!"

What the town had to say didn't matter after all; the town had paid her no attention for years; it was paying her no attention now. Why, then, should she live without any one to speak to? "I'll go and get Old Chris, that's what I'll do. I won't live here alone any longer." And with this decision she went to sleep.

Greta liked her French, in which she was not far inferior to Christian; the lesson therefore proceeded in an admirable fashion. "Chris, I have not fed my rabbits." "Be quick! there's not much time for history." Greta vanished. Christian watched the bright water dripping from the roof; her lips were parted in a smile. She was thinking of something Harz had said the night before.

Chris waited till he had extricated the car from the stream of traffic, then impulsively she spoke "Trevor, I didn't think you were like Aunt Philippa. I thought you understood." She saw his grave face soften. "Believe me, I am not in the least like your Aunt Philippa," he said. "No; but " "But, Chris?" "I think you needn't have asked me that," she said, a little quiver in her voice.

"You haven't seen her since she was married, Chris," Alice said, and Chris agreed with a pleasant "That's so!" He sat down, and Norma, incapable of any effort, at least until she could control the emotion that was shaking her like a vertigo, sank back into her own chair, unseeing and unhearing.

It made clear much that had not been easy to understand, and the tremendous fact rose in his mind as a link in such a perfect sequence of evidence that doubt actually vanished before he had lost sight of Chris and passed dumfounded upon his way.

Jane the parlormaid entered, carrying a salver. "For me?" asked Uncle Chris. "For Miss Jill, sir." Jill took the note off the salver. "It's from Derek." "There's a messenger-boy waiting, miss," said Jane. "He wasn't told if there was an answer." "If the note is from Derek," said Uncle Chris, "it's not likely to want an answer. You said he left town today." Jill opened the envelope.

Now, you see, Chris, my position is a delicate one, because Sophie's folks all agree that, if there is anything in creation that is ignorant and dreadful and mustn't be allowed his way anywhere, it's 'a man. Why, you'd think, to hear Aunt Zeruah talk, that we were all like bulls in a china-shop, ready to toss and tear and rend, if we are not kept down cellar and chained; and she worries Sophie, and Sophie's mother comes in and worries, and if I try to get anything done differently Sophie cries, and says she don't know what to do, and so I give it up.

"Ah tell you, boy, you ought to come with us to Germany... nauthin' but whores in Paris." "The trouble is, Chris, that I don't want to live like a king, or a sergeant or a major-general.... I want to live like John Andrews." "What yer goin' to do in Paris, Andy?" "Study music."

"I am living at home peaceably," said Chris; "it is true that my brother did all this, but but my father wishes that it should not be used in his cause." "If it is true," said the Archbishop, "it is best to say it. We want nothing but the bare truth." "But I cannot bear it," cried the old man again. Chris came round behind the Archbishop to his father.

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