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"Thank you, dear," said Conscience, quietly, and the happy serenity of her eyes seemed genuine except to Eleanor. "Of course, at one time," Mary rushed on, "we all thought that you had decided to marry Mr. Farquaharson and he sounded well worth while from what you told us. It only shows what an easy thing it is to make mistakes. How did you find out yourself, dear?"
It could hold no motive of deceiving him. Only treatment in confinement could ever again set up the fallen and shattered sanity of this man, but like rents in a curtain there came to him flashes of the rational. They came fitfully under the tremendously sobering effect of what he read. What Stuart Farquaharson had never read.
Picture the Sphinx growing garrulous. Picture Napoleon seeking retreat in a monastery but don't try to visualize Mr. Tollman making love." "Perhaps I'm premature," announced Farquaharson with conviction. "But I'm not mistaken. If he hasn't made love to you, he will." "Wherefore this burst of prophecy?" "I don't have to be prophetic. I saw him look at you and I didn't like the way he did it.
Heath's prerogative to knight her protégés with the Order of the Chosen, and Stuart Farquaharson would have graced any picture where distinction of manner and unself-conscious charm passed current.
Though Eben's note to Farquaharson had said that Conscience requested him to extend the invitation, he had not yet mentioned to her the circumstance of its sending. He wished to study an unwarned face when she met Farquaharson.
All right; go if you like and don't come to see me again until you get over the idea that you're a a " she halted for a word, then added scornfully "a combination high priest and Prince of Wales." Stuart Farquaharson bowed stiffly. "All right," he said. "I won't forget. Good-by." At the dinner table that evening Mrs.
"If there is any motoring assistance I can give " began the hostess, but the other woman interrupted her with a short laugh and a glance of almost reckless straightforwardness. "No, it isn't for that, that I came. You see I'm not diplomatic. I'm said to be startlingly frank. I came to talk with you, if you'll let me, about Stuart Farquaharson. He is a common friend of ours, I believe."
"You speak of a party, and that makes me realize the imperative need of improving this golden moment," Stuart Farquaharson announced urbanely, "because I have certain rude and elementary powers of deduction." "Which lead you to what conclusion?" She turned eyes riffled with amusement from the contemplation of a distant sail to his face, and he proceeded to enlighten her. "To two.
Don't this feller ever take a drink or play around with any female companions?" "You ain't got the angle straight on Farquaharson," observed the sleuth who had for some time been Farquaharson's shadow. "He ain't that kind. I'm living in the same apartment hotel with him and my room's next door to his. I don't fall for the slush-stuff, Chief, but that feller gets my goat. He's hurt and hurt bad.
Finally the elder man straightened up, and stood panting. The vital package was still unfound. Stuart Farquaharson tossed a sheaf of ancient bill receipts across the desk with the casual comment, "Well, that seems to be the crop."
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