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Updated: May 11, 2025
For some time after the returns were in, Bucks was silent; silent so long that the copper-haired man twisted in his chair, looked vacantly around the office and chewed a cigar into strings. Then the sounder at his hand clicked. He recognized Bucks sending in the three words lightly spelled on his ear and jumped from his seat. Just three words Bucks had sent and signed off.
I shall leave for London tomorrow, in any event. Besides, it is part of the bargain that we take coffee with these ladies. Here they are." Wrayson introduced his friends with perfect gravity. Chairs were found, and coffee and liqueurs ordered. Wrayson contrived to sit on the outside, and next to his copper-haired friend. "Now for our little talk," he said. "Will you have a cigarette?
A copper-haired woman with a copper-haired child in the curve of her arm moved through the lighted front room and toward them. Her smile was upturned, with a dimple low in one cheek, like a star in the cradle of a crescent moon. Charley Scully turned his vivid face toward her. "Till," he cried, "she come, anyway. Looka, she's come!" "Yes, I I've come," said Marjorie Clark.
Actually, he was thinking of a different chest and different legs at the time the ones belonging to a copper-haired girl named Rhoda Kane. Rhoda's legs were far more alluring.
He had proposed the fight, conscious of the fact that he would be soundly beaten, but he was a bit of a Quixote and a lady's name was involved. And no nurse ever tended a wounded hero more tenderly than the little copper-haired creature of impulse who bathed the battered face of poor Dick.
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