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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Don't!" cried Staniford, in a hollow under-voice, which he broke through to add, "Go to sleep, now, Dunham, or keep quiet, somehow." Dunham was silent for a while, and Staniford continued his search, which he ended by taking the portfolio by one corner, and shaking its contents out on the table. "I don't seem to find it; but I've put it away somewhere. I'll get it."
What day did I tell you this was?" "Friday." "A week! And I told her to expect me Monday afternoon. A week without a word or a sign of any kind! Well, I might as well take passage in the Aroostook, and go back to Boston again." "Why, no!" cried Dunham, "you must take the first train to Venice. Don't lose an instant. You can explain everything as soon as you see her." Staniford shook his head.
She thought it cruel of him to look at her like that. He continued: "There is a spot over there in the woods near a thicket of white birches that I have selected as the spot for the ceremony." "Very poetical," returned Sylvia. "Such a plan suits this outlook." "I see there are some more stairs," said Dunham, looking about. "Shall we do the thing thoroughly? Let's go to the top."
"Don't you remember that old Brad Dunham wrote to New York one spring and asked a commission man if he would take a million frogs' legs? Commission man wrote that he'd take a hundred pairs; and the best old Brad could do, after wading in the swamp back of his house all day, was to get a dozen. Wrote to the commission man that he'd been estimating his frogs by sound and thought he had a million.
Afterwards the musician dashed into the brilliant movement of a Beethoven Sonata. It was just as she was beginning Rubinstein's exquisite tone portrait, Kamennoi-Ostrow, that the gentlemen came in. Tryon Dunham had had his much desired talk with the famous judge, but it had not been about law.
"Indeed, she will think nothing about it," Dunham assured her, "except to be glad that she has the right number of guests. Her dinners are delightful affairs usually, and you have nothing to do but talk about impersonal matters for a little while and be entertaining. She was most insistent that you take no thought about the matter of dress.
When the visitors had reached the next to the upper floor, Dunham led Sylvia to a window, and together they exclaimed upon the wide beauty of the great, open bay. "Whoever owns this old mill owns a palace," said Sylvia. She placed her hand lovingly on the edge of a hoary shutter. "Didn't I tell you it was worth while to open your eyes, dear?"
Yes, I ought to have told her at the beginning that I was engaged. But you can't force a fact of that sort upon a new acquaintance: it looks silly." Dunham hung his head in self-reproach. "Well?" asked Staniford. "Well, that's all! No, it isn't all, either. There's something else troubles me. Our poor little friend is a blackguard, I suppose?" "Hicks?" "Yes."
"What day is this?" asked Dunham. "Friday," said Staniford, rummaging his portfolio. "Have you been in Venice?" "Look here, Dunham! If you begin in that way, I can't talk to you. It shows that you're still out of your head. How could I have been in Venice?" "But Miss Blood; the Aroostook " "Miss Blood went to Venice with her uncle last Saturday. The Aroostook is here in Trieste.
It is one hundred in the refrigerator on this dock." Benny took the lunch stolidly, and stowed it under cover. He considered Mr. Dunham an entirely superfluous member of this party. "He's the freshest lobster ever I see," was his mental comment. "I wonder which of 'em he's sweet on?" The passengers jumped aboard. "Guess I'll save you the trouble of sailing her, eh, Benny?" asked John.
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