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Updated: June 4, 2025
Craftily and with a most ingenious subtlety he had destroyed her power, he had blunted her weapons. Hine was attracted by Sylvia, fascinated by her charm, her looks, and the gentle simplicity of her manner. Very well. On the other side Garratt Skinner had held out a lure of greater attractions, greater fascination; and Sylvia was powerless.
Parminter and his affected voice, suggesting that he came out of the great world to this little supper party, really without any sense of condescension at all, and the behavior of Walter Hine, who, to give himself courage, gulped down his champagne it was all horribly familiar. Her one consolation was her father.
Something of their patience had entered into Garratt Skinner. He did not deny his name, he asked no question, he accepted failure and he looked anxiously to the sky. "It will snow, I think." They made some tea, mixed it with wine and gave it first of all to Walter Hine. Then they all breakfasted, and set off on their homeward journey, letting Hine down with the rope from step to step.
Walter Hine, weak of frame and with little stamina, was exposed to the rigors of a long Alpine night, thirteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, with hardly any food, and no hope of rescue for yet another day and yet another night. There could be but one end to it. Not until to-morrow would any alarm at their disappearance be awakened either at Chamonix or at Courmayeur.
You des wrop er hank er yo' hyar roun' de hine foot, honey, en' w'en de night time done come, you teck'n hide it unner a rock in de big road. W'en de devil goes a-cotin' at de full er de moon en he been cotin' right stiddy roun' dese yer parts he gwine tase dat ar frawg foot a mile off." "A mile off?" repeated the child, stretching out her hands.
"That check would be a very dangerous thing if Parminter ever came to hear of it. Better give it to me." He leaned over and took it gently from before her, and put it carefully away in his pocket. "Now, you see, there's more reason ever why we should get Wallie Hine away from those two men. He is living a bad life here. Three weeks in the country may set his thoughts in a different grove.
Just you and Garratt Skinner and the pretty daughter, with occasional visits from Barstow?" "Yes," answered Hine. "Garratt Skinner does not care to see much company." Once more the smile of amusement played upon Mr. Jarvice's face. "No, I suppose not," he said, quietly.
"I really think you are too Puritanical, isn't he, Miss Miss Sylvia?" Hine had been endeavoring to pluck up courage to use her Christian name all the evening. His pride that he had actually spoken it was so great that he did not remark at all her little movement of disgust. Garratt Skinner seemed to weaken in his resolution. "Well, of course, Wallie," he said, "I want you to enjoy yourselves.
"I shall take a hand for a little while, Sylvia, to see that they keep to the stakes. I think young Hine wants looking after, don't you? He doesn't know any geography. Good-night, my dear. Sleep well!" He took her by the elbow and drew her toward him. He stooped to her, meaning to kiss her.
Sylvia made no answer. Her face was grave and very still, her eyes dwelt quietly upon him and betrayed nothing of what she thought. "You have guessed who the one person is?" Again Sylvia did not answer. "Yes. It is Wallie Hine," he continued. Her suspicions were stirring again from their sleep. She waited in fear upon his words.
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