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Updated: May 23, 2025
You'd have to pretend that I'd never been anything else. And our friends would have to pretend that they believed what you pretended." Gannett pulled off the sofa-tassel and flung it away. "You're impossible," he groaned. "It's not I it's our being together that's impossible. I only want you to see that marriage won't help it." "What will help it then?" She raised her head. "My leaving you."
The men would probably back Gannett to "do the decent thing"; but the ladies' eye-brows would emphasize the worthlessness of such enforced fidelity; and after all, they would be right. She had put herself in a position where Gannett "owed" her something; where, as a gentleman, he was bound to "stand the damage."
Lydia, with slow steps, was walking toward the garden.... As she approached the hotel she looked up furtively and Gannett drew back into the room. He sat down beside a table; a Bradshaw lay at his elbow, and mechanically, without knowing what he did, he began looking out the trains to Paris.... "My daughter Irene," said Mrs.
"'She's coming about, cried the voice of the skipper, Gannett. 'A few of these gusts would get us far enough across to be out of danger from the main storm. "But she did not come about. I could feel the camel tugging at the lariat as the swerving of the boat jerked him along, but presently the strain ceased, for the boat lay wallowing as before.
The direction of the road had changed, and a shaft of sunlight struck across the dusty red velvet seats into Lydia's corner. Gannett did not notice it. He had returned to his Revue de Paris, and she had to rise and lower the shade of the farther window. Against the vast horizon of their leisure such incidents stood out sharply.
The thing had come that morning, brought up to her in an innocent-looking envelope with the rest of their letters, as they were leaving the hotel at Bologna. As she tore it open, she and Gannett were laughing over some ineptitude of the local guide-book they had been driven, of late, to make the most of such incidental humors of travel.
Gannett, of the geological department. The State convention of 1903 met in Golden Gate Hall, San Francisco, November 18, 19. Among the addresses of welcome was one by the Rev. Bradford Leavitt of the Unitarian church and one by President Benham of the city Labor Council. Mrs. Sargent and Mrs. E. O. Smith paid tributes to the memory of the association's honorary president, Mrs.
I hated the woman my one thought was not to be seen with her I could have killed her for guessing my secret. The one thing that mattered to me at that moment was my standing with Lady Susan!" Gannett did not speak. "And you you've felt it too!" she broke out accusingly.
Gannett, for a moment, made no reply. At length he said, avoiding her eye as carefully as she avoided his: "It might be different now; I can't tell, of course, till I try. A writer ought not to be dependent on his milieu; it's a mistake to humor oneself in that way; and I thought that just at first you might prefer to be " She faced him. "To be what?" "Well quiet. I mean "
She stood looking in the direction from which the steamboat was to come; then she turned to the ticket-office, doubtless to ask the cause of the delay. After that she went back to the bench and sat down with bent head. What was she thinking of? The whistle sounded; she started up, and Gannett involuntarily made a movement toward the door. But he turned back and continued to watch her.
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