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And I can't stand for you being scared by the 'hands' on my ranch. I'll have to get rid of him." Then, as he sat in the saddle with Elvine on her pony at his side, he had taken in Nan and her father in a smiling, comprehensive glance. "I guess Evie's some sport acting the way she's done," he declared with a lover's pride. "I allow we owe her a heap of thanks, eh, Bud?" Bud nodded.

"Evie's happiness was the motive of our little agreement." He endeavored to make his tone playful, but there was a something sharp and aggressive in his manner, at which she colored slightly, no less than at his words. "I suppose," she said, as if after meditation, "Evie's happiness isn't in our hands." "True; but there's a good deal that is in our hands. There's, for example our own."

I should have guessed it to be Mannering, but I would have staked my life upon Evie's truthfulness when she had told me how much she had learned to detest him. Besides, her delight was obvious when I arrived on the scene. Not until the evening, however, did I get a chance of speaking to Evie again.

The place turned out to be in the wrong part of Shropshire, damn it, and though he never damned his own property aloud, he was only waiting to get it off his hands, and then to let fly. Evie's marriage was its last appearance in public. As soon as a tenant was found, it became a house for which he never had had much use, and had less now, and, like Howards End, faded into Limbo.

And Evie's rockery was only bumps. Perhaps Evie was responsible for Miss Avery's oddness. But Margaret suspected that the cause lay deeper, and that the girl's silly letter had but loosed the irritation of years. "It's a beautiful meadow," she remarked. It was one of those open-air drawing-rooms that have been formed, hundreds of years ago, out of the smaller fields.

"Why does that make any difference, Dolly?" "Still, when it costs over five pounds I didn't see it, but it was a lovely enamel pendant from a Bond Street shop. You can't very well accept that kind of thing from a farm woman. Now, can you?" "You accepted a present from Miss Avery when you were married. "Oh, mine was old earthenware stuff not worth a halfpenny. Evie's was quite different.

"Why does that make any difference, Dolly?" "Still, when it costs over five pounds I didn't see it, but it was a lovely enamel pendant from a Bond Street shop. You can't very well accept that kind of thing from a farm woman. Now, can you?" "You accepted a present from Miss Avery when you were married." "Oh, mine was old earthenware stuff not worth a halfpenny. Evie's was quite different.

Every summer she would fear lest the well should give out, every winter lest the pipes should freeze; every westerly gale might blow the wych-elm down and bring the end of all things, and so she could not read or talk during a westerly gale. The air was tranquil now. She and her sister were sitting on the remains of Evie's rockery, where the lawn merged into the field.

She saw herself dragging the toboggan up the bank, felt again the horror of that first mad rush, saw the girls flying to right and left before Evie's waving arms, and heard Evie's voice shriek aloud in the pain of the sudden collision. Her own agonised exclamation brought mother and nurse hurrying across the room to lay soothing hands upon her, and hold her down in bed as she cried out wildly

She did not know what animals were coming to. But her gentility withered at the touch of the sweet air. The wind was rising, scattering the straw and ruffling the tails of the ducks as they floated in families over Evie's pendant. One of those delicious gales of spring, in which leaves still in bud seem to rustle, swept over the land and then fell silent. "Georgie," sang the thrush.