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Updated: October 5, 2025
She was not anxious now to have any of the Underhills on her visiting-list; but she did mean to make use of Jim. She had grown quite worldly-wise and experienced. Two of Jim's friends were generously supplied with pocket-money. One was a young Virginian, Mr. Weir, the other, Harry Gaynor, and both spent lavishly. Flowers were costly then; and Lily was the recipient of many a handsome bouquet.
"So Tip Gaynor hired you to do all you could to disgrace me in the eyes of the Navy people?" demanded Jack. "Yes to hurt any of you, for that matter." "And to play tricks in the engine room of either submarine?" "Yes; Tip Gaynor told me it was highly important to cause the boats to break down while under the eyes of all Annapolis." "I understand," muttered Jack. "That was clever, in a way.
The "as usual" was his own qualification of the act; a convenient way of bridging the interval in days and other sequences that lay between this visit and the last. It was characteristic of him that he instinctively excluded his call two days earlier, with Ruth Gaynor, from the list of his visits to Mrs. Vervain: the special conditions attending it had made it no more like a visit to Mrs.
"Jest git a bed ready, Misses," Gaynor continued, softly; "git a bed ready, an' he'll be all roight afther a bit. He's just stunned; that's all, just stunned!" It was curious how the sense of evil had limited each one's vocabulary. "Let me help," pleaded Mrs. Porter, speaking for the first time.
Dere's only two jocks in de race worth a damn Bill Westley an' de kid on our horse. He knows he's got to beat Dutchy, an' he's lyin' handy by. When you see Dutchy move up Larcen'll come away, or I'm a goat." Mike Gaynor had taken his place on the little platform at the top of the steps leading to the stand. He was watching the race with intense interest.
Yes, Mortimer understood; it seemed quite clear, for Mike had been to some pains to cover up the slip he had made. "Now I must go," he continued; "an' ye needn't come in the paddock if the b'y is there, I'll sind him out." When Alan's seeker returned to Old Bill, he said, "Mr. Gaynor thinks your choice might come in first." "Why was Irish steerin' you clear of de paddock?" asked the other.
"If it is necessary to have a reason that was one." "To talk to me about Miss Gaynor?" "To tell you how she talks about you." "That will be very interesting especially if you have seen her since her second visit to me." "Her second visit?" Thursdale pushed his chair back with a start and moved to another. "She came to see you again?" "This morning, yes by appointment."
Yer mare's a good little filly, w'en she's right, but ye'r up against it." Porter stopped and looked at the horseman. He was Mike Gaynor, a trainer, and more than once Porter had stood his friend.
Gaynor placed her guests at table out on the porch, conscious of her daughter's watchful eye. When all were seated, Mark King found himself with Miss Gloria at his right and an unusually plain and unattractive girl named Georgia on his left. Everybody talked, King alone contenting himself with brevities. Over dessert he found himself drifting into tête-á-tête with Miss Gloria.
It had taken Thursdale seven years to form this fine talent; but the result justified the effort. At the crucial moment she had been perfect: her way of greeting Miss Gaynor had made him regret that he had announced his engagement by letter.
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