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Updated: June 6, 2025
I pumped as if the house was afire, and I grabbed the first thing I came across in the shape of a tumbler: it was a painted one that Mrs. Dennison's Sunday school class gave her, and it was meant for a flower vase. "Well, I filled it and then ran upstairs. I felt every minute as if something would catch my feet, and I held the glass to Mrs. Dennison's lips, while Mrs.
The son listened intently. "I bought that string of glass beads in good faith of a Chinaman Ling Foo. I consider them mine that is, if they are still in my possession. Between the hour I met you last night and the moment of Captain Dennison's entrance to my room considerable time had elapsed." "Sufficient for a rogue like Cunningham to make good use of," supplemented the prisoner in Cabin Two.
Dennison's mistake, in supposing his sisters their guests, had suggested the propriety of their being really invited to become such, while Mrs. Jennings's engagements kept her from home.
I shall want to keep awake to-night." "Why?" "Oh, just an idea. You'd better turn in when the interview is over. Good luck." Jane stood framed in the doorway for a moment. Under the reading lamp in the main salon she saw Cleigh. He was running the beads from hand to hand and staring into space. Behind her she heard Dennison's spoon clatter in the cup as he stirred the coffee. Wild horses!
I did not, however, mean to let Nina meet Dennison, for I never knew whom she might like or dislike, and it would have been a most horrible complication if she had fallen a victim to Dennison's smile.
Cleigh sat before a card table; he was playing Chinese Canfield. He looked up, but he neither rose nor dropped the half-spent deck of cards he held in his hand. The bronzed face, the hard agate blue of the eyes that met his own, the utter absence of visible agitation, took the wind out of Dennison's sails and left him all a-shiver, like a sloop coming about on a fresh tack.
She came slowly across the empty court, looking with curiosity at the bunch of absorbed people, and presently she caught her breath. The man who was the centre of the group, who was making, apparently, the amusement, was the young clergyman, Norman North. There was an outburst, a chorus of: "You can't have that one, Mr. North!" "That's been used!" "That's Mr. Dennison's!"
Dennison's being unusually suspicious. He shut his teeth hard together as though repressing some sign of weakening. "Whether you are telling the truth or not, boy," he said sternly, "I want you to understand once for all that you must not come up here again. I shall instruct my men to keep a constant watch for trespassers, and deal severely with them.
"We started out with the intention of making a day of it," Frank observed, "and there's no reason to change our minds. I'm going to take a turn in a new direction, though in the end we may strike the old trail that leads to the Point from Mr. Dennison's place." Jerry looked at him eagerly.
But then, of course, it's from the Bixbys; I'm going to think so, anyway," she comforted herself, and resolutely closed her eyes. "If that should be Dennison's letter," mused Mr. Clayton as he locked up the house; "if that should be confound it, and I know it is! I 'd swear it! It serves me right, too, I suppose, for telling him to write me at the house instead of at the office.
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