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Updated: June 21, 2025
Porter to enlarge it to book size, which she did. This book is "The Cardinal." Following Mr. Gilder's advice, she recast the tale and, starting with the mangled body of a cardinal some marksman had left in the road she was travelling, in a fervour of love for the birds and indignation at the hunter, she told the Cardinal's life history in these pages.
I had meant to follow Mrs. East's advice and propose to Miss Gilder, I explained, but Monny had not found my buried love-letter. What had become of it I er had never been told. All I knew was that it hadn't come into Miss Gilder's hands; and I should never have as much courage again. "Oh!" Cleopatra exclaimed, with a curious light in her eyes, more like relief than disappointment.
Gilder's thick gray brows drew down in a frown of displeasure, while his eyes opened slightly in sheer surprise over the secretary's unexpected remark. He hesitated for only an instant before replying with an air of great dignity, in which was a distinct note of rebuke for the girl's presumption. "The profits from my store are large, I admit, Sarah.
Gilder's private secretary, as she was passing through one of the departments that morning, to ask her if the owner had yet reached his office. "Been and gone," was the secretary's answer, with the terseness characteristic of her. "Gone!" Smithson repeated, evidently somewhat disturbed by the information. "I particularly wanted to see him." "He'll be back, all right," Sarah vouchsafed, amiably.
He seated himself in Gilder's chair at the desk, and drew the telephone to him. "Give me 999 Bryant," he said. His tone was hardly louder than a whisper, but spoken with great distinctness. There was a little wait. Then an answer in a voice he knew came over the wire. But Garson said nothing more.
Of course, Miss Gilder's rather important, and I believe her father's obsession used to be when she was a child, that she'd be kidnapped for ransom. The 'little sprite of a woman' you admire so much, knew the Gilders in those days.
On account of his being the old man's son, I'm a little cramped in my style." It was, in truth, one thing to browbeat and assault a convict like Dacey or Chicago Red, but quite another to employ the like violence against a youth of Dick Gilder's position in the world.
That was the way the joke about Monny and me started. He did ask me not to speak of it, but it can't matter now. He told me when he was in New York, with a family who took him from Egypt, one day the great Mr. Gilder's daughter was pointed out to him in the street.
So, he disregarded Gilder's greeting, and went on speaking to the son. "She's skipped!" he said, triumphantly. Dick made a step forward. His eyes flashed, and there was anger in his voice as he replied: "I don't believe it." The Inspector smiled, unperturbed. "She left this morning for Chicago," he said, lying with a manner that long habit rendered altogether convincing. "I told you she'd go."
Little Effie Gilder's porridge did taste good! and so it ought; for beside that Mother Gilder made it, and Mother Gilder's porridge was always just right, Effie was eating it on her seat upon the sea-shore in front of her father's house.
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