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Updated: June 4, 2025
But I get that sort of stuff at home, and if I get it here I don't know what I'll do." "Oh, you're right, too," Robert muttered. "It's not my business." Cosgrave appealed sadly to Francey. "He's wild with me. But a picnic you'd think any human being might go on a picnic " "You're going," she answered quietly, "and Robert too." He did not take up the challenge. He was too miserable.
It was as though the fire had been withdrawn from a molten metal which began instantly to harden. A woman next to Stonehouse tittered. "So vulgar and silly I don't know what people see in her." "I want to get away," Cosgrave said sharply. "It's this beastly closeness." He looked and walked as though he had been drinking.
The tears came into his round, blue eyes and trickled down his freckled cheeks, and a sudden choking tenderness, a dim perception of all that this one friend meant to him, made Robert fling his arms about him and hug him close. "Yes you would. Because I'll look after you always honest injun." There was one secret that he never told to anyone not even to Cosgrave. He was ashamed of it.
I'm as good as an electric shock to their lethargic, overfed carcasses. They can't get over a young man with his way to make who wipes his boots on them. They have to come back for more." Cosgrave gave his little toneless laugh. "I wish to God you'd frighten me. You know, when I felt how rotten I was I thought of you.
He had failed Cosgrave from the moment that Cosgrave had demanded love for himself and human tenderness. He had no tenderness to give. He was a hard young man. He said slowly, and with a curious humility: "I used to back him up when he was a kid. He trusted me too and it's got to be a sort of habit. I want him to be happy." "Because you are so un'appy yourself?"
He had reckoned loneliness as an asset. But to feel it, as he felt it now beneath this stilted exchange, was to become aware of a dull, stupid pain. He found himself staring over the heads of the people, and wishing that Cosgrave had never come back.
We will come in the gate together, we will walk in to the building together. I will have my way." Martin Cosgrave spoke of having his way in the impassioned voice of the fanatic, of his home-coming with his bride in the half-dreamy voice of the visionary. "Have your way, Martin, have your way," the woman said. "And," she added, rising, "I will be bringing up a few things to put into your house."
In the late harvest Martin Cosgrave carried up all the little sticks of furniture from his cabin and put it in the building. Then he sent for Ellen Miscal. When the woman came she looked about the place in amazement. "Well, of all the sights in the world!" she exclaimed. Martin Cosgrave was irritated at the woman's attitude. "We'll have to make the best of it," he said, looking at the furniture.
Stonehouse, startled from his own reflections, became aware that Cosgrave, whose apathy had hung about them like a fog, hiding them from each other, was on the point of tears of breaking down helplessly in the crowded entrance. And instantly their old relationship was re-born.
That same night Cosgrave, frustrated at the theatre, tried to force an entrance to the Kensington house, and the old woman, seconded by a Japanese man-servant, flung him out again and into the arms of a policeman who promptly arrested him. Stonehouse went bail for him, and there was a strange, frantic scene in his own rooms.
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