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Updated: May 22, 2025
Stephen Anerley was slow but sure; not so very keen, perhaps, but grained with kerns of maxim'd thought, to meet his uses as they came, and to make a rogue uneasy. To move him from such thoughts was hard; but to move him from a spoken word had never been found possible. The wife of this solid man was solid and well fitted to him.
"I did, dear friend." "Did I or didn't I do it?" "In the words of the classic, you done it," admitted Kerns. "Was I or wasn't I going to the devil before I had the sense to marry?" persisted Gatewood. "You was! You was, dear friend!" said Kerns with enthusiasm. "You had almost went there ere I appeared and saved you." "Then why shouldn't you marry and let me save you?"
I want to ask you to take up his case at once. Besides, I've a bet on it. Could you attend to it at once?" "To-night?" asked the Tracer, laughing. "Why ah well, of course, that would be impossible. I suppose " "My profession is to overcome the impossible, Mr. Gatewood. Where is Mr. Kerns?" "Here, in this club, defying me and drinking cocktails.
"Somebody is hammering at the front door," he breathed. "Listen!" "I hear. I believe it must be the Tracer of Lost Persons." "What?" "Only a Mr. Keen." "O Lord!" said Kerns faintly, and covered his face with her fragrant hands. Very tenderly, very gravely, she drew her hands away, and, laying them on his shoulders, looked up at him.
So one balmy evening late in May, when the new moon's ghost floated through the upper haze, and the golden Diana above Manhattan turned flame color, and the electric lights began to glimmer along Fifth Avenue, and the first faint scent of the young summer freshened the foliage in square and park, Kerns, stopping at the club for a moment, found Gatewood seated at the same window they both were wont to haunt in earlier and more flippant days.
"Are you dining here?" inquired Kerns, pushing the electric button with enthusiasm. "Well, that's the first glimmer of common sense you've betrayed since you've been married!" "Dining here!" repeated Gatewood. "I should hope not! I am just going home " "He's thoroughly cowed," commented Kerns; "every married man you meet at the club is just going home."
This Fuidhar class from the first seem to have been very numerous, and depending as they did absolutely upon the chief, there grew up by degrees that class of armed retainers kerns and galloglasses, they were called in later times who surrounded every important chief, whether of English or Irish descent, and were by them quartered forcibly in war time upon others, and so there grew up that system of "coyne and livery," or forced entertainment for horse and men, which is to be met with again and again throughout Irish history, and which undoubtedly was one of the greatest curses of the country, tending more perhaps than any other single cause to keep its people at the lowest possible condition of starvation and misery.
He surprized the Irish Kerns at Ramile, and having inclosed them, took every rebel upon the spot, who did not fall in the conflict.
Kerns until she is ready to receive him. But of this he must know nothing. Good-by, Mr. Gatewood, and would you be kind enough to present my compliments to Mrs. Gatewood?" "Indeed I will! We never can forget what you have done for us. Good-by." "Good-by, Mr. Gatewood. Try to keep Mr. Kerns amused for two or three hours.
"You never knew a girl named Marjorie Manners, did you, John?" "No. What about her?" "You never heard Mr. Kerns speak of her, did you, dear?" "No, never. Tommy doesn't talk about girls." "You never heard him speak of a Mrs. Stanley?" "Never. Who are these two women?" "One and the same, dear. Marjorie Manners married an Englishman named Stanley six years ago. Do you happen to recollect that Mr.
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