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Daney's shoulder. "Where did you hide the boat, Mr. Daney? Answer me. I'll not be trifled with." "I scuttled her if you must have the truth." "I knew you wouldn't lie to me. On whose orders, Mr. Daney? My father's?" "No, sir; it was my own idea." Daney's face was white with mental and physical distress and red with confusion, by turns. His shoulder was numb. "Why?"
On the steps of the church he was accosted by Andrew Daney and the latter's wife, who greeted him effusively. Unfortunately for Mrs. Daney, Nan, in one of those bursts of confidence that must ever exist between lovers, had informed Donald the night previous of the motherly soul's interest in his affairs; wherefore he returned Mrs.
"The mischief is done. What's the use of crying over spilled milk? You're going to forgive the boy sooner or later, so do it now and be graceful about it." "I'll never forgive him, Andrew." Mr. Daney walled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Thank God," he murmured piously, "I'm pure. Hereafter, every time Reverend Mr.
One does not relish the information that one's mother has not exhibited the sort of delicacy one expects of one's mother," he added bluntly. "It is not nice of you to say that, Donald. How do you know that Mr. Daney did not send for me?" He smiled tolerantly.
"He declared war on me, so, naturally, he comes into my territory at his own risk. That scum from Darrow must keep out of our town, dad, and force is the only argument they can understand. Daney gave them a free hand and spoiled them, but I'm going to teach them who's boss around here now. Besides, I owe that fellow a poke. He insulted Nan Brent.
From Whatcom, she wrote her husband that she was enjoying her visit so much she hadn't the slightest idea when she would return, and, for good and sufficient reasons, Daney did not urge her to change her mind. Presently, Mrs. McKaye and her daughters returned to Port Agnew.
"Precisely, Miss Brent. For his father's sake." "Not to mention your husband's position. Precisely, Mrs. Daney." Mary Daney's heart fluttered. "I have trusted to your honor, Nan although I didn't say so in the beginning not to mention my visit or this interview to a living soul." "My 'honor!" Nan's low, bitter laugh raked the Daney nerves like a rasp. "I think, Mrs.
"Number one eighty-five Madison Avenue, Noo Yorrk City," Dirty Dan replied promptly. "More I do not know. Am I on the pay-roll agin?" "You bet! I'll pick out a good job for you as soon as I find time to think about it." "Could I have a dollar or two in advance " the wanderer began, as Daney hastened toward the door. "Certainly."
Daney planned to impress upon The Laird the desirability of a trip to the Orient, while he, Daney, upon the orders of a nerve-specialist, took a long sea voyage. Immediately the entire burden of seeing that the Tyee Lumber Company functioned smoothly and profitably would fall upon Donald's young and somewhat inexperienced shoulders.
Daney, listening on the extension in the office of the manager, recognized the voice instantly as Nan Brent's. "Go on, Mrs. McKaye," he ordered. "That's the Brent girl calling Port Agnew." "Hello, Miss Brent. This is Donald McKaye's mother speaking. Can you hear me distinctly?" "Yes, Mrs. McKaye, quite distinctly." "Donald is ill with typhoid fever.
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