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Updated: May 20, 2025
He turned away from her and, nervously lifting the poker, divided the smouldering log. A red flame shot up, illuminating the gathered faces that stood out against the dusk. The glare lent a grotesque irony to the flabby, awe-stricken features of the general, brightened the boyish ill-humour in Bernard's eyes, and played peaceably over Miss Chris's tranquil countenance.
He did not even question that she cared for him. It was as though they both had passed through the doubting period without knowing it, and had arrived together at the same point, the crying need of each other. He rather thought, looking back, that Audrey had known it sooner than he had. She had certainly known the night she learned of Chris's death.
Two shots had been fired: one had certainly hit his ear; had the other been aimed at Sankey? He crawled along until he came to the point where he could see down on to the road. To his horror Sankey was lying there on his back. The exclamation that burst from Chris's lips as he saw Sankey on the ground was answered by another from his friend. "Thank God that you are there, Chris.
As a matter of fact, Reginald has not been quite the same man since Rollo nearly killed him that exciting evening. His nerves seem to be greatly shaken." "That is because the rascal feels the net closing round him," Steel said. "It was a fine stroke on your sister's part to win over that fellow Merritt to her side. I supplied the details per telephone, but the plot was really Miss Chris's.
A red spring sun was sinking, far down the river, and all the world the opposite shores, the running waters of the Hudson was bathed in the exquisite glow. Norma fumbled with her left hand for her little handkerchief, her right hand clinging tight to Chris's hand. "Now, Norma, I've been thinking," the man said, in a matter-of-fact tone, after a pause.
She would not be Aunt Annie's sort of woman Chris's sort she would be herself, judged not by what she had, but by what she could do what she could give. "And that's the kind of woman I am, after all," she said to herself, rejoicingly. "The child of a French maid and a spoiled, rich young man! But no, I'm not their child.
The reservations were all directly or indirectly connected with Aunt Philippa, for whom Chris's feeling was that of an adventurous schoolboy for a somewhat severe headmaster. She was not exactly afraid of her, but she was instinctively wary in her presence.
Well, it is as good as a couple of hundred pound to me, anyway. Little missie, you'd better take a tearful farewell of your lumps of sugar, as you'll never see them again." To Chris's quivering indignation he slipped the star into his breast-pocket. Just for the moment the girl was on the point of crying out.
Chris's brow wrinkled over the problem. She had reached the outlying rocks of the belt she had to cross, and was picking her way between the pools in deep abstraction. "I wonder!" she murmured to herself. "I wonder!" Then suddenly her rapt expression broke into a merry smile. "I know! Of course! Absurdly easy!
I'll tell you about it presently. But do find the cake first. I'm so hungry. We needn't go to bed yet, need we? It must be quite early. What time do you think the tide will let us get out? Poor Mademoiselle will think I'm drowned." Chris's awe of the Magic Cave had evidently evaporated. The picnic mood had returned to take its place, and Bertrand knew not whether to be more astounded or relieved.
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