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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Gordon?" echoed Polly, a question in her eyes. Peggy nodded an emphatic little nod, her lips closing in a half-defiant, half who-dares-dispute-his-judgment little way, then the smile returned to the pretty mouth and she continued, "Yes, Gordon Powers and his room-mate, great, big Douglas Porter, and Durand's new room-mate, Bert Taylor, he comes from Snap's old home, so Daddy learned, to come out to Severndale this afternoon for a real frolic."
Stewart who had risen to meet Peggy's friend, started as though some one had struck him, for the voice, even with Durand's best attempts to disguise it to a feminine pitch, held a quality which no girl's voice ever held. "Well I'll be I'll be why you unqualified scamp, who ARE you, and what do you mean by looking so exactly like my girl here that I don't know whether I've one daughter or two?"
The reason why Durand's name was mentioned as one of those who had fled, was this: my mother had a very curiously-constructed foreign box, which had been broken, and which the tradesmen in the town had one and all declined even to attempt to repair.
Honoré, and it must have been at just about the time when Ste. Marie, concealed among the branches of his cedar, looked over the wall and saw Arthur Benham walking with Mlle. Coira O'Hara. Hartley had lunched at Durand's with his friends, whose name though it does not at all matter here was Reeves-Davis, and after lunch the four of them, Major and Lady Reeves-Davis, Reeves-Davis' sister, Mrs.
I may tell you that Mademoiselle P was here this morning; tears were in her lovely eyes, and she seemed very glad to see me back, at which I somewhat wondered, especially if she esteemed me. I should have thought she would rather have relished my escaping altogether, than being again caught." Here ends Durand's narrative.
"There has been a man following me about; I thought he was interested in the Claibornes. He's here I saw him at the Monte Rosa to-night. God!" He dropped his hand from Durand's arm and struck the table fiercely with his clenched hand. "John Armitage John Armitage! I heard his name in Florence." His eyes were snapping with excitement, and amazement grew in his face.
Possibly from a much beflowered, bejeweled, elderly dame, whose eyes were fixed on Mr. Durand's averted face. If so, she received a defiant look from mine, which I do not believe she forgot in a hurry. Alas! it was not the only curious, I might say searching glance I surprised directed against him as we made our way to where I could see my uncle struggling to reach us from a short side hall.
They have got us trapped;" and Durand's hands shook as he restlessly fingered a revolver. The big Servian crouched on his knees near by, his finger on the trigger of his rifle. All three were hatless and unkempt. The wound in Zmai's scalp had broken out afresh, and he had twisted a colored handkerchief about it to stay the bleeding.
Now if there was one thing Polly could do it was whistle. Indeed, she insisted that it was her only accomplishment and many a happy little impromptu concert was given in Middies' Haven with Happy's guitar, Shortie's mandolin and Durand's violin.
Please do not be offended with me. I told you my stories have no Alpine glow about them, but the danger was undoubtedly there." Archie had risen to his feet, but there was no forgiveness in Miss Durand's eyes as she bade him "Good-morning," and went into the hotel, leaving him standing there.
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