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"I suppose," he continues, in his usual courteous tone, "that it will be best to have a business meeting as soon as possible. I will consult Mr. Connery; an inventory was taken, I suppose." "Yes. It is in his hands." Wilmarth is certainly hard to get on with. To natural brusqueness is added an evident disinclination to discuss the business.
He suffered jealous wrath, and would have assaulted Dyckman in public if Connery had not quelled him. Connery kept a cool head in the matter because his heart was not involved. He saw the wealth of Dyckman as the true object of their attack, and he convinced Gilfoyle of the profitableness of a little blackmail.
He proceeded to take the name and addresses of witnesses and principals, and he detained her as an important accessory. Connery was one of the news-men who had been indebted to Mrs. Twyford for many a half-column of gossip, and he recognized her at once. He was a reporter, first, last, and all the time, and he was very much in need of something to sell.
"I do," said Dyckman; and now he asked the "How much?" that he had refused to speak the night before. Connery did a little figuring with a pencil, and Dyckman thought that some life-insurance in the mother's name would be a pleasant thing to add. Then he doubled the total, wrote a check for it, and said: "There'll probably be something left over. I wish you'd keep it as your attorney-fee, Mr.
He grew maudlin with repentance and clung to his friend Connery with odious garrulity. Connery was disgusted with him, but he was afraid to leave him because he kept sighing: "I guess the river's the only place for me now." At length Connery steered him into a saloon for medicine and bought him a stiff bracer of whisky and vermouth. But it only threw Gilfoyle into deeper befuddlement.
"I am not afraid of explaining to the whole world that Miss Adair is a friend of mine and that her father and mother were present when I called." Connery met this with a smile. "But how often were they present when you called?" Dyckman grew belligerent again: "Do you want me to finish what I began on you last night?" "I'm in no hurry, thank you.
I named the river after Mr. Thomas B. Connery, of New York. We resumed our walk, turning back along the bank of the river, which on the east side is high and almost perpendicular. We reached the portage, about three miles to the south, and crossed over to the west side, which is a low, rolling country, covered with moss, which at a distance looked like sun-burned grass.
It made a queer relation for her; a relation that struck her at this moment as less edifying, less natural and graceful than it would have been even for her remarkable mother and still in spite of this parent's third marriage, her union with Mr. Connery, from whom she was informally separated. It was at the back of Julia's head as she approached Mr.
Connery will invoke the aid of the law if there is no other way out. Mr. Wilmarth is taken very much by surprise, that they can both see. His first attitude looks like battle. Mr. Connery makes a brief and succinct statement, explaining what he puts very graciously as a mistake or an informality, and Wilmarth listens attentively.
"I'm the husband of that shameless woman; that's who I am," Gilfoyle shrilled, a little cowed by Dyckman's stature. "Oh, you are, are you!" said Dyckman. "Well, you're the very chap I'm looking for. Come in, by all means." Connery, seeing that the initiative was slipping from Gilfoyle's flaccid hand, pushed forward with truculence. "None of that, you big bluff!
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