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Updated: June 27, 2025
He fought it from him, thrusting it off and aside by sentimental thoughts on the "honest snow," the "fine elms," the "sturdy New England spirit," and the "great homecoming." But at sight of Agatha's house he wilted. Before he knew it, with a recrudescent guilty pang, he had tossed the half-smoked cigar away and slackened his pace until his feet dragged in the old lifeless, East Falls manner.
Rivers's carved ivory cigarette-holder was lying beside the body, crushed at the end as though it had been stepped on. A half-smoked cigarette had been in it; it, too, was crushed. There was no evidence of any great struggle, however; the attack which had ended the arms-dealer's life must have come as a complete surprise.
He was struggling to save this boy against the overwhelming forces of extreme youth and weakness. The whole of his effort was supported by the barest thread. Would that thread hold? Again came that nervous movement as Alec flung away his half-smoked cigarette. "When should we need to start?" he demanded almost brusquely. "Two weeks from now."
He threw away his cigarette half-smoked, with a free gesture that seemed to imply that he was capable of parting with a hundred pounds just as easily. "How did she get the option?" Edward Henry inquired, putting into the query all the innuendo of a man accustomed to look at great worldly affairs from the inside. "How did she get it? She got it from the late Lord Woldo.
The pork of the Plains is generally poor, composed of the lightly-salted and half-smoked sides of shotes who had evidently little personal knowledge of corn.
"Does your father know you drink?" "Lord, no! I wouldn't have the governor know it for anything! He takes a little himself, but he thinks I'm on the water wagon yet thinks I'm not old enough to get out with the boys and whoop her up." After a moment he dropped the half-smoked cigarette on an ash tray. "I believe I'll quit!" he exclaimed.
"Who's she?" queried Turnbull, balancing his half-smoked cigar between the fingers, as he blew a fragrant cloud to the cloudless vault above. "Didn't get the family name Pancha they called her, a slip of a sixteen-year-old, going to school, perhaps."
Seton tossed away a half-smoked cigarette and rose. "In half-an-hour," he said, "I shall have left this place, and my cousin with me. I asked to speak to you because I detest all underhand dealings. You apparently have not the same scruples." Merefleet also rose. "You will apologise for that," he said, in a tone of conviction.
He set his teeth and turning his back on her, threw his half-smoked cigar into the fire, Helena, cowering on the sofa, murmured something of gratitude, Mr. Pryor did not take the trouble to listen. "Well," he said, "the next thing is to get you away from this place. We've got to stage the drama carefully, I can tell you." "I can go at once."
Rawlings picked up his half-smoked cigar from the table, and puffed at it in silence for a few seconds. Then he laid it down again, and his black eyes gleamed with suppressed fury as he looked at the Spaniard. But he spoke calmly. "And I tell you again that no one of us will ever be safe. If he lives, something will come out some day it always does, my brave and tender-hearted Manuel.
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