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Updated: June 18, 2025
In the stillness the poachers could hear Westall's harsh and peremptory voice giving some orders to his underling, or calling to the dogs, who had scattered a little in the stubble. Hurd's own dog quivered beside him once or twice. Then steps and voices faded into the distance and all was safe.
But, even if the attack had been on Hurd's part, I should still find excuses, because of the system, and because of Westall's hatefulness." He shook his head again. "Because a man is harsh and masterful, and uses stinging language, is he to be shot down like a dog?" There was a silence.
What I want is something, some handle which will get me John M. Hurd's attention just long enough to make him listen to me. If I can get him to listen, I stand a chance." "You say he carries no fire insurance on any of the trolley properties?" the New Yorker inquired thoughtfully. "No," replied Mr. Osgood. "He has a small insurance fund perhaps thirty or forty thousand dollars.
She is very ill and miserable, and very penitent. You will be kind to her?" The husband looked at her, and then turned away. "God help us!" he said; and Marcella went without another word, and with that same wild, unaccustomed impulse of prayer rilling her being which had first stirred in her at Mellor at the awful moment of Hurd's death.
"The whole point lies in this," she said, looking up: "Can we believe Hurd's own story? There is no evidence to corroborate it. I grant that the judge did not believe it and there is the evidence of hatred. But is it not possible and conceivable all the same?
Jim Hurd's widow was to be married again, to the queer lanky "professor of elocution," with the Italian name and shifty eye, who lodged on the floor beneath her in Brown's Buildings, and had been wont to come in of an evening and play comic songs to her and the children.
"Do you know," he said presently, "I did not tell you before, but I am certain that Hurd's wife is afraid of you, that she has a secret from you?" "From me! how could she? I know every detail of their affairs." "No matter. I listened to what she said that day in the cottage when I had the boy on my knee. I noticed her face, and I am quite certain.
"To save time you had better give me a précis of the matter. Is it important?" "Very I should say," responded Paul, emphatically. "It contains an account of Norman's life from the time he left Christchurch." "Hum." Hurd's eyes brightened. "I'll read it at my leisure, but at the present moment you might say what you can."
When supper was over Dick Banister, who is Gracie Hurd's beau, asked me, with awkward bowing, for the first dance, and, beginning with him, I danced with every man in the room who made pretense of knowing how, except Selwyn. He did not ask me. Bravely, however, he did his part. He overlooked no one, and David Guard, watching, blinked his eyes a bit and smiled.
On an iron bedstead, at the foot of the large bed, lay Willie, restless and coughing, with the elder girl beside him fast asleep; the other girl lay beside her mother, and the wooden box with rockers, which held the baby, stood within reach of Mrs. Hurd's arm. He made her no answer, but went to look at the coughing boy, who had been in bed for a week with bronchitis.
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