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Updated: May 2, 2025
A little of her exaltation died then. But perhaps men were like that, shyly covering the things they felt deepest. She was rather surprised when he suggested keeping the engagement a secret. "Except the Doyles, of course," he said. "I am not taking any chances on losing you, child." "Not mother?" "Not unless you want to be kidnaped and taken home. It's only a matter of a day or two, anyhow."
The first one of the marked prey had shown teeth and claws and the hunters slipped on under the cover of the darkness to easier game. The Doyles were not armed. At least the chances were the old shotgun was not loaded, as it was used only for hunting. The hunters crouched low and circled the Doyle house, crawling through the timber and the brush. A hundred yards from the stable, a dog barked.
He was a man of splendid presence, with strong features and clear blue-grey eyes the type of face that is seen on the Bench and among the Queen's Counsel in the English Courts. He was quick-witted, eloquent, and logical of mind. Among the Doyles and Donohoes he was little short of a king. Wild, uneducated, and suspicious, they believed in him implicitly.
However, as soon as he could swallow whisky he was pronounced out of danger, and the Kuryong party was allowed to depart in peace for home, glad enough to get away. But the two girls were afraid to drive the big mare, as she was thoroughly roused after her dash in among the Doyles and Donohoes, and was inclined to show a lot of temper.
But it was whispered here and muttered there among the Doyles and the Donohoes and their friends and relations, that old Billy the Bully, on one of his visits to the interior, had been married to this undesirable lady by a duly accredited parson, in the presence of responsible witnesses; and that, when everyone had their own, Carrotty Peg, if alive, would be the lady of Kuryong.
Rainsfords, the Josephine Shaw Lowells, the Robert Ross McBurneys, the R. Fulton Cuttings, the Father Doyles, the Jacob H. Schiffs, the Robert W. de Forests, the Arthur von Briesens, the F. Norton Goddards, the Richard Watson Gilders, and their kind; and thinking of them brings to mind an opportunity I had a year or two ago to tell a club of workmen what I thought of them.
And things were in this state when an unexpected event put an altogether different complexion on affairs. When Hugh came home one day with his face, as usual, full of trouble, Mary began to laugh him out of it. "Well, Mr. Hugh, which is it to-day the Doyles or the Donohoes? Have they been stealing sheep or breaking gates?" "Oh, it's all very well for you to laugh," he said; "you don't understand.
Uncle John wondered what Jane's character had to do with the finding of Tom Bradley's last will; but he said nothing. "Where are you living?" asked Louise. "Not anywhere, exactly," he answered, "although Patsy has offered me a home and I've been sleeping on a sofa in her living-room, the past week." "I advise you to stay with the Doyles," said Mrs. Merrick, quickly.
Be taught the same doctrines. Be pushed in one direction. There were, then, two Doyles, one the poseur, flaunting his outrageous doctrines with a sardonic grin, gathering about him a small circle of the intelligentsia, and too openly heterodox to be dangerous.
He settled the incomes of substantial sums of money upon both Beth and Louise, making them practically independent. For Patsy he bought a handsome modern flat building located at 3708 Willing Square, and installed her and the Major in its cosiest apartment, the rents of the remaining flats giving the Doyles an adequate income for all time to come.
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