Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 10, 2025
The following morning, in a drizzling rain and wind from the east, Dermott McDermott stood beside Katrine at the station, arranging for her comfort, directing her maid, and wiring Nora in New York, lest she should be unprepared for this hastily determined return to the city. "I was sorry for Ravenel last night, Katrine," he said, with an earnest sympathy in his tone.
As she lay face downward, her body convulsed with weeping, it was ordered that Dermott McDermott should take a short cut through that part of the grounds to the boat-landing, on one of his lightning-like trips to foreign parts.
And more than he would have acknowledged was a disquietude caused by his instant resentment of the existence of Dermott McDermott. Never in his life had he felt more strongly the need for companionship. He had been loved by many women. He had never been believed in by any.
"Or," with a twinkle of the wide eyes, "didn't you want to go on the coaching-party?" "I took a fall at polo yesterday. I was not at dinner last night. I am flattered at the way you have dwelt upon my absence." "I dined at the Crosbys' or I might have spent a sleepless night concerning it. There were a great many people there. Your friend, Dermott McDermott, for one. He is coming here to-day."
"Ah, my Quantrelle!" he cried, gayly, at sight of the thin grotesqueness. "Still in your old place; still taking care of madame!" "Till the end," was the answer, with a serious note in the voice. "You have not changed much in the three years since I saw you last," Dermott said, inspecting him closely. "Nor you, monsieur," Quantrelle answered.
You see what you did for me, Katrine! And at every turn, circumventing, obstructing, legislating against me, urging me on by mental friction, was Dermott McDermott. Am I tiring you?" he asked, tenderly. "No," she answered. "I am glad to know how it all was. Over there in Paris, when I was alone, I often wondered."
The black hair, olive skin, the bluer than blue eyes of Dermott, as he stood in the light of the doorway; his alert, theatric, dominating personality; his superb self-consciousness; the decision of manner which comes only to those who have achieved, seemed to her prejudiced gaze admirable in themselves, but more admirable as a foil to the warm brown of Frank's hair, to the poetic gray of his eyes, his apparent self-depreciation, his easy acceptances, and his elegant reluctance to obtrude on others either his views or his personality.
During dinner Ireland was easily triumphant, for while Katrine sat at Nicholas van Rensselaer's right, Dermott had been placed on her other side, and Frank, sitting by deaf old Mrs. van Rensselaer, had abundant time to mark McDermott's gift for society.
They did not know who the young fellow was who was reaping in the field and they shouted for the Little Sage of the Mountain to come out of the house and speak to them. "We want to know where to find the Gobaun Saor who is to give us the Sword of Light," said Dermott. "Come in," said the Sage, "and help me with my day's work, and I'll search in my book for some direction."
"She said she desired her money obligation to be paid immediately." "It is an affair of small moment," Frank answered. "You know, perhaps, that my cousin, Madame de Nemours, left her property to Miss Dulany?" "I heard of it at the time," Frank returned. "And named me as executor," Dermott explained. "A fact which escaped me," Ravenel answered, suavely.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking