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With all a woman's penetration, she had guessed Rowland's secret during his mother's illness, and had perceived no symptoms of attachment on the part of Miss Gwynne; and now, with all a woman's pity, she was watching him from afar.
Until I have offered to remain and nurse her, and been refused until, in short 'I understand, Gladys, said Miss Gwynne. 'You are quite right. Let them all value you for yourself, and then we will introduce you as 'I didn't mean that, indeed, indeed, Miss Gwynne, said Gladys, her pale face growing red. 'I only wanted to show my gratitude, as I am, to them all.
Then, even if they managed to save their wealth, the city would be intolerable for the socially ambitious or even the merely refined." "You are unfair," said Gwynne; "for these men all have enough to pull out and invest elsewhere. They could go to New York and buy a big position, as so many of their predecessors have done. Or to London.
A far-off flicker of lightning cast a faint, phosphorescent glow into the dimly lighted room, quivering for a second or two on the face of the woman at the window, then dying away with what seemed to be a weird suggestion of reluctance. She stood before him, looking down. "I have at last obeyed a command imposed by Robert Gwynne when he was on his death-bed.
Miss Gwynne had invited her to pay her a visit, and she was to arrive almost immediately. She did arrive whilst they were talking about her, and as the carriage that had been sent to meet her drove up to the door out flew Freda in great excitement, and scarcely allowed her ci-devant governess to alight before she was overwhelming her with embraces.
You may cast me out of your heart, Viola, but you cannot tear yourself out of mine. So! I have spoken. There is no more." She turned her head to look out of the window. Viola did not move. Presently the older woman spoke again. "Your name is Minda Carter. You will be twenty-two years old next September. You have no right to the name of Gwynne.
He was excessively neat, almost fashionable in his dress, which Gwynne was to observe in the course of time was invariably brown. He had a small pointed beard and a sharp direct dishonest eye. He was the leading hardware merchant of Rosewater and owned the hotel and the opera-house.
Do you suppose anybody'll take the trouble to feed 'em?" Toby Moxler, Jack Trentman's dealer, accosted Kenneth Gwynne at the conclusion of the first drill. "Jack found this here letter down at the shanty this morning, Mr. Gwynne. It's addressed to you, so he asked me to hand it to you when I saw you." Kenneth knew at once who the letter was from. He stuck it into his coat pocket, unopened.
"If Mrs. Gwynne, our good friend and neighbour, desires to address this meeting," he said with a courteous and elaborate bow, "and I am sure by training and tradition she is quite capable of doing so, I am confident that all of us will be delighted to listen to her. But the question in hand is not quite so simple as she imagines. It is "
Gwynne smiled with a pardonable cynicism; but while he was not unwilling the conversation should turn upon himself, his curiosity was not satisfied. The fog had gone and the moon had risen. He could see Isabel quite plainly. She had turned her head and was gazing out over the great expanse desolated by the moonlight, and he studied her profile for the first time, often as he had observed it.