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Updated: May 9, 2025
Into such slang their souls translated the holiness of his emotions, and they voted him guilty even in awarding him their admiration for his defense. Beattie paused again, then suddenly asked, "Mr. Dyckman, how long have you loved Mrs. Cheever?" "What do you mean by 'loved'?" "It is a familiar word. Answer the question." "I have admired Mrs. Cheever since she was a child.
Then Kedzie remembered Gilfoyle. She had thanked her stars that she told Dyckman the truth about him in time. And now she was confronted with the same situation. Since her life was repeating its patterns, it would be foolish to ignore the lessons. So after some hesitation she told the Marquess that Jim Dyckman was not her first, but her second.
The three embraced automatically rather than heartily, and Kedzie came out of her mother's bosom chilled, though it was a warm night and Mrs. Thropp had traveled long. Also there was a lot of her. Kedzie gave her parents the welcome that the prodigal's elder brother gave him. She was thinking: "What will Jim Dyckman say when he learns that my real name is Thropp and sees this pair of Thropps?
I hope I'll not have to send for him. But I'd like to." Kedzie felt a little quiver of alarm. She did not quite want Jim to come back just yet. She had grown used to his absence. His return would deprive poor Jakie of solace. Mrs. Dyckman took Kedzie's hand and stared at her sadly. "You're looking a little tired, my dear, if you'll forgive me for being frank.
"Oh, Lord!" sighed Kedzie. "I'll never do." She was thinking that destiny had tossed her into the very arms of the aristocracy and she had been fool enough to fight her way out. Jim Dyckman, meanwhile, was clambering into his car with clothes and ardor dampened. He was swearing to cut out the whole herd of women.
She wondered why he laughed, but she would not ask. Along many lines Kedzie did not know much, but in others she was uncannily acute. Kedzie was gleaning all her ideas of gentlemanship from Jim Dyckman. She knew that he had lineage and heritage and equipage and all that sort of thing, and he must be great because he knew great people.
And what's more, we've been here all evening, and you'd better look out how you swear at me or I'll sick Mr. Dyckman on you." Only one touch was needed to perfect the scene, and that was for the First and Second Villains to slink off, cursing and muttering, "Foiled again!" But these villains were not professionals, and they had not been rehearsed.
The modesty her mother had whipped into her was gradually unlearned step by step, garment by garment, without Kedzie's noticing the change in her soul. Just about the hour of that historic day when Kedzie was running away from her father and mother Prissy Atterbury was springing his great story about Jim Dyckman and Charity.
If Gilfoyle could get a million dollars from Dyckman, or any part of it, Dyckman would never notice it; and yet it would mean a life of surety and poetry and luxury for Gilfoyle. If he caught Dyckman and Anita together in a compromising situation he could collect heavily under threat of exposure. Rather than be dragged into the newspapers and the open courts Dyckman would pay almost any sum.
Dyckman was astounded and frightened by her action. He put his hand out, but she unclenched his fingers from her wrist, mumbling: "Don't please!" "Why not? What's wrong with you, child?" How could she tell him? What could she do? She must do a lot of thinking. On one thing she was resolved: that she would not give Dyckman up. She would find Gilfoyle and get quit of him.
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