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The white-haired old widow who now represented the head of the Clayton family her kin somewhat removed, but none the less her "cousins," after the comprehensive Southern fashion had taken Mary Ellen to her bosom, upbraiding her for ever dreaming of going into the barbarian West, and listening but little to the plea of the girl that poverty had driven her to the company of those who, like herself, were poor.

You can have a whole day to think this over. Would you forfeit Mr. Worthington's regard and so lose your place?" There was a strident anger in the manager's harsh voice. But Clayton, realizing that he had even till now not been able to gain Irma's pictured face, looked forward to the heart-wreck of this enforced absence.

Clayton from the time of the little scene I have recently described.

Mrs Clayton Vernon always enunciated her remarks in a loud and clear voice, so that Paul Ford could not have failed to hear every word. A faint but beatific smile concealed itself roguishly about Paul Ford's mouth, and he looked with a rapt expression on an advertisement above Mrs Clayton Vernon's head, which assured him that, with a certain soap, washing-day became a pleasure.

Easter's face remained thin and drawn, and acquired gradually a hard, dogged, almost sullen look. She spoke to Clayton rarely, and then only in monosyllables. She never looked him in the face, and if his gaze rested intently on her, as she sat with eyes downcast and hands folded, she seemed to know it at once.

It was the morning after the pageant that Clayton, going down-town with him in the car, voiced his expectation that the government would take over their foreign contracts, and his feeling that, in that case, it would be a mistake to profit by the nation's necessities. "What do you mean, sir?" "I mean we should take only a small profit. A banker's profit."

She says the odor of flowers makes her ill." He knew Madeleine had invented the excuse, that Natalie had simply rejected his offering. He went down-stairs, and made a pretense of dining alone in the great room. It was there that Audrey's daily cable found him. Buckham brought it in in shaking fingers, and stood by, white and still, while he opened it. Clayton stood up.

The Bowery's delights were telling upon the frightened lad, who had sealed his glib tongue now behind lying lips. Flattered by the "cop's" familiar manner, Emil greedily swallowed the ground bait artfully scattered by the cool Irish-American. He reeled off the story which he had told to the inquisitors of parting in the office with Clayton after Somers had given over the deposits.

He gazed fiercely at the impassive face of John Witherspoon, and rising, with a bow of general adieu, stalked into the hall. But he turned as Boardman, Warner, and Witherspoon, following, drew him into the room where Clayton had fought out his life struggles. "You may now deliver us the papers taken from this desk, and so, escape a prosecution," firmly remarked Boardman.

"You've let the house down awfully," said Clayton. "Yes?" said Sheen. Linton took the paper out of his pocket, and smoothed it out. "Seen the Sporter?" he asked casually. His neighbour grabbed at it. "I thought it hadn't come," he said. "Good account of Aldershot," said Linton. He leaned back in his chair as two or three of the senior day-room collected round the Sportsman. "Hullo!