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Updated: June 3, 2025
The elder lady got so far as to clasp her hands and add, "You have not forgotten us James, oh, James!"; the younger gentleman to attempt a brusque "Why, Jim, old boy," that ended in querulous incoherence; the young lady to cast a half-searching, half-coquettish look at him; and the old gentleman to begin, "Our desire, Mr. North" but the effort was futile. Mr.
Nellie Stone, at the desk, was glancing around, with a half-shy, half-coquettish look. "How is Mr. Risley?" asked Flynn. "He is badly hurt," replied Robert. "Have they found the man? Do you know what has been done about it?" "They've got all the police force of the city out," replied Flynn, "but it's no use. They'll never catch Amos Lee. His mother was a gypsy, I've always heard.
But her eyes would have redeemed almost any face, and now they were all aglow with a wonderful light. He looked his admiration. "Because if you don't like me " There was a charming half-coquettish way about her, but she never made a bid for compliments. "What then?" laughing. "I'd stay home and spoil the wedding party. I know they couldn't fill my place on a short notice."
"I'm all right," she said; "but YOU, Mad Wayne, what do you mean by not speaking to me not knowing me? You can't say that I've changed like that." She passed her hand down her long dripping braids as if to press the water from them, and yet with a half-coquettish suggestion in the act. Something struggled up into the man's face which was not there before. There was a new light in his grave eyes.
All these little accessories seemed unnecessary to her. She liked to simplify. She hated fuss, anything worrying, agitating. ... And now she felt deeply miserable, perturbed and agitated. What a punishment for giving way to that half-coquettish, half self-indulgent impulse that had made her write to Paris! She had begged him to come back; while, really, he was here, and had not even let her know.
Please, please, don't ask me. Go to-morrow, as you said. If you don't, I can't let you," she blushed, and held out her blushing face once more. "Only if you promise me to go to-morrow, mind," she said, with a half-coquettish, half-tearful smile at him. Cyril hesitated for a second. He was inclined to temporize. "Those are very hard terms," he said. Then impulse proved too much for him.
She took his hands in both of hers, raised them to her lips, and smiled. The shadow of grief and restraint seemed to have fallen from her face, and a half-mischievous, half-coquettish gleam in her dark eyes touched the susceptible Cass in so subtle a fashion that he regained the street in some confusion. He wondered what Miss Porter would have thought.
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