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Updated: July 8, 2025
With the passage of time the friends had again grown intimate, had been partners in more than one deal, and the youthful relationship had been cemented by the years. But it had happened, seemingly purely through chance, although King knew better, that he had never met Gaynor's wife or daughter. When Gloria was little, Mrs.
"Are we far from anywhere?" asked Marcella, smiling at him. He spat assiduously through a knothole in the boarding and looked from her to Louis. "Depends on what you call far," he said reflectively. "There's Gaynor's about fifteen miles along, an' Loose End nigh on thirty. Where yous makin' for, then?" "I should say Loose End would suit us, by the sound of it," said Louis with a laugh.
An arrangement was made by which Mike's disconsolate horses were fed at Ringwood, and he took care of both strings. This delighted Allis, for she had full confidence in Gaynor's integrity and good sense. The early winter brought two visitors to Ringwood Crane, who came quite often, and Mortimer, who went out to the farm a couple of times with Alan.
But Gaynor shook his head and his thin, aristocratic face was briefly overcast, and for an instant shadows crept into his eyes. "No can do, Mark," he said quietly. "Not this time. I've got both hands full and then some." King leaned forward in his chair, his hand gripping Gaynor's knee. "Ben, it's there. I've always known it, always been willing to bet my last dollar.
Uninured to hardship, her delicate body was already beaten; with still further hardship to come might she not die? And what would Mark King say to Ben Gaynor, even if he brought back much raw red gold, if it had cost the life of Ben Gaynor's daughter? She did not stir when he came to her and knelt and put his hand against her cheek. He was shocked to learn how cold she was.
As Ben Gaynor's daughter, never as his own beloved wife, she had become his responsibility. She was a parcel marked "Fragile Handle with Care," which he had undertaken to deliver safely to a friend. "I am going to look for the horse," he told her. He got to his feet and took up his rifle. "But don't count too much on my success.
Not three paces away a uniquely familiar figure was threading in and out the changing maze-it was Mike Gaynor. Mortimer broke from his friend, and with quick steps reached the trainer's side. "I want to find Alan Porter," he said, in answer to Gaynor's surprised salutation. "He was in the paddock a bit ago," answered Mike; "he moight be there still."
If there were, in truth, such gold here somewhere as he and her father with him had dreamed of gold for which seven men had died sixty years ago, for which old Loony Honeycutt had hungered all these years, for which Brodie and his following and even a city man like Gratton were like so many ravening wolves on the trail gold in quantity to make even toughened old gold-seekers delirious with the dreams of it why, then, that gold was half Mark King's and half Ben Gaynor's!
She slipped to a place on the arm of Gaynor's chair, her hand, whose well-kept beauty caught and held King's eyes for a moment, toying with her husband's greying hair. "She loves old Ben," thought King. "That's right." Mrs. Ben Gaynor was what is known as a born hostess very charming. Hostess to her husband, of whom she saw somewhat less each year than of a number of other friends.
We suggested on other occasions that new churches should have floors with an angle of forty-five degrees, on account of the prevailing fashion of large hats among women; that City Hall employees were outwitting Mayor Gaynor's time clock by paying the night watchman to punch it for them at sunrise, and that beauty had become a bar to a job as waitress in numerous New York restaurants.
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