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However, what engaged Linda most was the fact that Vigne already liked men; she had been at the fringe, as it were, of young dances, with a sparkling satisfaction to herself and the securely nice youths who "cut in" at her brief appearances. The truth was that Linda saw that more than a trace of Stella Condon's warm generosity of emotion had been brought by herself to Arnaud's daughter.
Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood snapped short in the container.
Viewed objectively, they all, with the exception of Linda, seemed alike; but that might have been due to their common impressive setting. The Boscombe, in its way, was as lavish as Mrs. Condon's dresses. The main place of congregation, for instance, was a great space of white marble columns, Turkey-red carpet and growing palms.
It was like that with a great many of her mother's mysterious remarks Linda had an instinctive feeling of drawing away. The other kissed her warmly and left a print of vivid red on her cheek. She examined the mark in the mirror when her mother had gone; it was, she decided, the kiss made visible. Then she laid away the things scattered about the room by Mrs. Condon's hasty dressing.
The execution of Allen, Larkin and O'Brien, so far from striking terror, but gave new life to the cause of Irish Freedom, and to-day, over the world, no names in the long roll of those who have suffered and died for Ireland are more honoured than those of the "Manchester Martyrs," while the determination has become all the stronger that, in the words of our National Anthem founded on Condon's defiant shout in the dock of "God Save Ireland!":
Condon's gaiety was as genuine as her fair hair. Not kept for formal occasion, it got out of bed with her, remained through the considerable difficulties of dressing with no maid but Linda, and if the other were not asleep called a cheerful or funny good night.
Generally I was accompanied by two boys, known as 'Condon's Twins. They were my landlord's sons, and certainly two of the smartest young sportsmen although only twelve years old I ever met with. Both were very small for their age, and I was always in doubt as to which was which.
"What for? I got a card, I'm tellin' you." "Put it down, that's all. No scab's going to handle that trunk. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you big coward, scabbing on honest men. Why don't you join the union and be a man?" Mary Condon's colour had left her face, and it was apparent that she was in a rage. "To think of a big man like you turning traitor to his class.
With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs.
He started to swear, but at the same instant found himself looking into Mary Condon's flashing, angry eyes. "Of course I b'long to the union," he said. "I was only kiddin' you." "Where's your card?" she demanded in businesslike tones. "In my pocket. But I can't git it out now. This trunk's too damn heavy. Come on down to the waggon an' I'll show it to you." "Put that trunk down," was the command.
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