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Updated: May 3, 2025
He broke out suddenly, in a petulant tone rather the tone of a child who knows it has been naughty, and wants to get the scolding over which it feels sure is coming some time. "What do you wish me to say?" Mr Keith's tone was cold and constrained, I thought. "Why don't you tell me I am an unhanged reprobate, and that you are ashamed to be seen walking with me? You know you are thinking it."
I have not forgotten that I owe you a little account; but you are the only man of soul in this Gehenna except myself, and I'd rather owe you ten dollars than any other man living." Keith's manner more than his words shut up most of his teasers. Nothing would shut up J. Quincy Plume. Keith always treated Terpsichore with all the politeness he would have shown to any lady.
The nature of the mistake was becoming apparent, and Keith's gray eyes smiled as they looked into the depths of the brown. "Your message had rather an amusing result," he said, "as the doctor informed me that Miss Christie Maclaire was the one who desired my presence." "Miss Maclaire!" her voice exhibiting startled surprise. "Why why oh, I did forget; I never told him differently.
In one way and another the fever infected Keith and spread from him to his parents, though his father as usual feigned complete indifference. From his mother he learned long before the startling fact was meant to reach his ears, that his father had actually asked a day off at the bank in order to attend the exercises. This news increased Keith's fear by several degrees.
Norman gathered the boy up, and as soon as he could disentwine his little arms from about his neck, turned him toward Keith. The child gave the stranger one of those calm, scrutinizing looks that children give, and then, his face suddenly breaking into a smile, with a rippling laugh of good-comradeship, he sprang into Keith's outstretched arms.
She arrived at the scene of the accident just before the first men rescued reappeared. She learned of Keith's effort to save them. She would have gone into the mine herself had she not been restrained. Just then the men came out.
Business was good, factories were busy, and the theatres were crowded nightly, especially Keith's, where the latest military photo-play by Thomas Dixon and Charles T. Dazey with Mary Pickford as the heroine and Charley Chaplin as the comedy relief was enjoyed immensely by German officers.
Wickersham's glance swept across, but did not rest on him, though it was enough for Keith to meet it for a second, and, without looking, the young man turned lazily away. "Shall we find a seat?" Mrs. Lancaster asked as she took Keith's arm. "Delighted, unless you prefer to dance." "I did not know that dancing was one of your accomplishments," she said as they strolled along.
He faced Keith, and suddenly flamed out: "I want to tell you that I think you have acted like a damned rascal!" Keith's jaw dropped, and he actually staggered with amazement. "What! What do you mean? I do not understand!" "You are not a bit better than that dog that you turned her over to, who got his deserts yesterday." "But I do not understand!" gasped Keith, white and hot.
For a moment he looked, Jenny thought, quite eager. Or was that only her fancy because she so desired to see it? She shook her head; and that drew Keith's eye. "More trifle?" he suggested, with an arch glance. Jenny noticed he wore a gold ring upon the little finger of his right hand. It gleamed in the faint glow of the cabin. So, also, did the fascinating golden hairs upon the back of his hand.
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