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He did not want the applause of the general public any more than he wanted his past unearthed. It was enough if his philanthropy was known to God and Grace Noir. She stood, to his mind, as a symbol of religion there can be no harm in reverencing symbols. Fran's eyes drew him abruptly from the bottom of the sea. He emerged, chilled and trembling.
He says she's not his daughter, this number one hundred forty-three. Maybe she isn't. Would you call her conduct sad?" Gregory took exquisite pleasure in arguing with Grace, because her serene assumption of "being in the right gave to her beautiful face a touch of the angelic. "I should call it impossible." "Impossible? Do you think it's impossible that Fran's deceiving you?
He was annoyed that Grace should imagine him weak. Fran's face hardened. It became an ax of stone, sharpened at each end, with eyes, nose, and mouth in a narrow line of cold defiance. To Grace, the acute wedge of white forehead, gleaming its way to the roots of the black hair, and the sharp chin cutting its way down from the tightly drawn mouth, spoke only of cunning.
No, Fran's afraid to have it told for fear she'd be injured by your cut-glass paragon, your religion-stuffed pillow that calls itself a man." "Fran afraid? That's a joke! I tell you, she's thinking only of Mrs. Gregory." "I'm sorry for Mrs. Gregory," Robert allowed, "but Grace Noir is more to me than any other woman on earth. You don't see the point.
To remember Fran's mother was to bring back not the rapture of a first passion, but the garrish days of disillusionment. He even felt something like resentment because she had remained faithful her search and unending love for him made so much more of his desertion than ever he had made. He could not tell Fran that he had never loved her mother.
The flight of Fran instantly became something so much more alarming than mere danger to Fran, that there was only one thing Soames could possibly do. He'd said he was not Fran's enemy. But he must do anything to keep Fran from carrying out the mission he'd been sent to accomplish. So when Soames got out of the elevator from the village store, he went directly to a security officer.
It was a pathetic appeal to a spirit altogether beyond her comprehension. Fran's quick eye caught the expression of baffled reaching-forth, of uncertain striving after sympathetic understanding. "You darling lady!" she cried, clasping her hands to keep her arms from flying about the other's neck, "don't you be troubled about me. Bless your heart, I can take care of myself and you, too!
It's a great chance, a magnificent opening. The man was so pleased with the way I talked he's new to the business, so that must be his excuse that I am to be the president." Fran's voice came rather faintly "Hurrah! But you are to be far, far above my reach, just as I prophesied. Don't you remember what I said to you during our drive through Sure-Enough Country?"
The moon could be seen as battered; shattered, devastated; destroyed. Soames touched Fran's shoulder again and showed him how one looked through the binoculars. Fran's hand shook as he took them. He put them to his eyes. Zani put her hands over her eyes with a little cry. It was as if she tried to shut out the sight that Fran saw. Mal began to cry quietly. Hod made little gasping noises.
Darkness had fallen and with it a sense of the eerie over Fran. She was distinctly relieved to hear Max laugh at this announcement. "Do you really want to see the ghost?" he asked, turning to her. "Crazy to," was Fran's prompt reply. "I wouldn't dare stay alone in that room, but with Miss Connie and Edith, I sha'n't be afraid. Indeed, I want dreadfully to see the ghost."
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