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They were not like Connie, of course, tall and slim, with the fine exalted face, with soft pink palms and soft round arms. And their striking saddle costumes were not half as curious to Fort Morgan as Connie's lacy waists, and her tailored skirts, and her frilly little silk gowns. But they were more curious to Connie.
"Nor all your sufferings," interrupted Miranda, as Constance wonderingly let them in. "Oh, nor yours! nor Connie's! nor all his; nor our whole past of the last two interminable years; but this whole poor terrified city's fate, and, for all we know, the war's final issue!
Sorell may teach you Greek. I don't mind that." Connie sighed again, and Nora stole a look at the small pale face under the sailor hat. It seemed to her that her cousin had somehow grown beautiful in these months of absence. On her arrival in May, Connie's good looks had been a freakish and variable thing, which could be often and easily disputed.
Rip kept his helmet against the Connie's, but the man spoke in another language, which Rip identified as the main Consops tongue. When he had finished, Rip told his Planeteers to have weapons ready and to keep lights off. Time enough for light when the Connies were all disarmed. It didn't take five minutes.
When I got home, I peeped in at Connie's door the first thing, and saw that she was raised a little more than usual; that is, the end of the conch against which she leaned was at a more acute angle. She was sitting staring, rather than gazing, out at the wild tumult which she could see over the shoulder of the down on which her window immediately looked. Her face was paler and keener than usual.
With a whimsical trick of memory he recalled abruptly a man under sentence of death in a Western gaol who had received the night before his execution a bill for a dozen bottles of champagne. Connie's extravagance appeared to him suddenly but a kind of moral champagne the particular hasheesh that she had chosen from unhappy consciousness.
She did not look quite happy, did not always meet a smile with a smile, looked almost reprovingly upon the frolics of the little brother-imps, and though kindness itself when any real hurt or grief befell them, had reverted to her old, somewhat dictatorial manner, of which I have already spoken as interrupted by Connie's accident.
"Why not here?" Mary said, smiling as but she could. "I am Connie's governess, doctor." He burst out into that suppressed roar which serves a man instead of tears, and jumped up from his seat, clenching his fist.
It seemed to him whenever he came across Douglas Falloden in Connie's company during these days, that the young man's pursuit of Constance, if it was a pursuit, was making no progress at all, and that his temper suffered accordingly. Connie's endless engagements were constantly in the way.
Everybody joined in the chorus, and it went well. Paul was not at all embarrassed, after a while, sitting in the room with the half a dozen work-girls. At the end of the song Fanny would say: "I know you've been laughing at me." "Don't be so soft, Fanny!" cried one of the girls. Once there was mention of Connie's red hair. "Fanny's is better, to my fancy," said Emma.
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