Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 3, 2025
Janet went to the bookcase; the book was gone and its neighbors were leaning over the vacant space endeavoring to conceal its absence. Failing to find the volume, the girl went to the table and took up, one by one, the magazines and books which covered it. "Ah!" she said suddenly, "I have you!" Under a pile, near Devant's leather chair, was what she sought, a copy of Bacon's Essays.
An agreeable place of abode he had found it as long as he was owned by a man. The Jersey kennels of George Devant had bred him; Devant had himself overlooked his first season's training, had hunted him a few times. At Devant's untimely death, Mrs. Devant had sold the place, the kennels, the mounts.
There was bliss in dallying with the joy, the bliss of youth, innocence, and unalloyed faith. Thornly might have stayed, as he generally did, at his own boarding house or at Bluff Head. Janet had learned of his intimacy there, although she had never imagined Mr. Devant's ingenuity in trying to keep them, at first, apart.
About all I could do to better the business was to keep my hands off; and that I did!" Devant's head drooped upon his chest, and Thornly felt a kind of pity that stirred a new liking for the man. "You think the lawyer told you the true facts?" he asked; "true in every particular?" Devant started up and turned deep eyes upon the questioner. "Great heavens! yes. You do not know Thorndyke.
Devant's blood ran hotly, as he thought upon his belief in heredity. Might it not be himself, instead of the poor mother, who was accountable for the Pimpernel? "Good God!" he muttered; "what would I not do for her? Train that keen mind, so apt and greedy! Fit her for a high place and, in small measure, redeem the brutal past! Give her perhaps to Thornly!" This thought stayed him.
Before he opened his eyes and while he was crawling about over his brothers and sisters, blind as puppies are at birth, Jim Thompson, Mr. Devant's kennel master, picked him out. "I believe that's the best 'un in the bunch," he said. On the day the puppies opened their eyes and first gazed with wonder at this world into which they had been cast, Jim stooped down and snapped his fingers.
Before he opened his eyes, while he was still crawling about over his brothers and sisters, blind as puppies are at birth, Jim Thompson, Mr. Devant's kennel master, picked him out. "That's the best un in the bunch." When he was only three weeks old he pointed a butterfly that lit in the yard in front of his nose. "Come here, Molly," yelled Jim to his wife. "Pointed the little cuss!"
The relentless voice was hard and cold. "Here, and later in the city!" "Did" Janet paused and bent forward, her tense face burning and eager "did you love her?" Why this question was wrung from her, the girl could not have told. It was in her heart and would have its way. "No." Devant's voice was husky, but he would save the future from the clutch of the past, if it were in his power to do so.
When Jim started taking the growing pups out of the yard and into the fields to the side of Devant's great Southern winter home, Oak Hill, it was Comet who strayed farthest from the man's protecting care.
"All right," Devant returned cheerfully, "I'll starve then. Saxton won't be down until to-morrow." "That so?" James B. had returned to his work unconcernedly. "Why, this is dreadful!" Janet could but smile at Devant's indifferent face. "I suppose you couldn't cook for yourself even if you were starving. I wonder if I might do something for you now?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking