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Updated: June 7, 2025
There was a driving road down past Latham's Folly and on across certain sand flats and by cranberry bogs to a small settlement where Prudence had a stepsister still living. This old woman lived with her granddaughter's husband's kinsfolk, who were so distantly related to Cap'n Ira's wife that the relationship could scarcely be followed.
Memory of that pale, violet-eyed girl who worked in the restaurant on Scollay Square flashed across his mind like a shooting star. Indeed, he was so confused that he heard only a little at first of Cap'n Ira's rambling explanation.
I ain't seen a prettier in many a day. Come here and look at this craft, Prudence." She hurried to join him. Her motions when she was on her feet were birdlike, yet there was the same unsteadiness in her walk as in Cap'n Ira's. Only, at the moment, he did not see it, for his eye was glued to the telescope. "What do you see, Ira?" she asked. "Clap this glass to your eye," said her husband.
The head of the unconscious deputy was close to Ira's heavy boot. He had only to lift his heel to crush that ruddy, good-looking, complacent face. He hurried past him, up the creaking stairs. His wife lay still on one side of the bed, apparently asleep, her face half-hidden in her loosened, fluffy hair.
A writer must be absolutely unhampered at least until his storehouse is well stocked with experience." "Being unattached isn't being unhampered," she persisted with a spirited flash in her eyes. "It's just being incomplete." "Possibly I'm like Ira's one-armed man," he hazarded. "Maybe 'in a manner of speakin' I wouldn't be half as smart as what I am' if I didn't have to face that affliction."
At quarter before eleven, the "Agamemnon" was within a hundred yards of the "Ça Ira's" stern, and this distance she was able to keep until I P.M. Here, by the use of the helm and of the sails, the ship alternately turned her starboard side to the enemy to fire her batteries, and again resumed her course, to regain the distance necessarily lost at each deviation.
"And I know I shall be happy here, Uncle Ira," said the girl, giving him her hand. Cap'n Ira's smile was as ecstatic as that of his wife. He looked sidewise at Tunis, a glance of considerable admiration. "It takes you to do it, Tunis. I couldn't have brought home a nicer lookin' gal myself. I swan!"
'I haven't, she said. 'You don't know about the will? 'Only what you told me in your letter. 'Well, I'm hanged! Tell me I hadn't the honour of knowing him personally was the late Mr Nutcombe's whole life as eccentric as his will-making? It seems to me Nutty spoke. 'Uncle Ira's middle name, he said, 'was Bloomingdale. That, he proceeded, bitterly, 'is the frightful injustice of it all.
Tunis had shaken his peacoat free of the clinging snow and now stamped his sea-boots on the rug. He smiled broadly and confidently at Sheila and she returned it so happily that her whole face seemed to irradiate sunshine. Prudence nudged Cap'n Ira's elbow. "Ain't it a pretty sight, Ira?" she whispered.
Marching up the winding road by the Ball homestead, Tunis Latham revisioned this adventure and the violet-eyed girl. Well, he probably would never see her again. And in any case she was not the sort of girl that he would ever take home to Aunt Lucretia. He was headed toward home now, to the old brown house in the saucer-like valley some distance beyond Cap'n Ira's.
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