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Updated: May 29, 2025
"This afternoon before I went out I asked God please to let something nice happen. There hasn't anything very nice happened for so long, I was afraid He had forgot. What must I write, Mr. Van?" Into Van Landing's face the color surged, then died away and left it strangely white. The child's eyes were holding his, and he did not try to avoid them. It didn't matter.
"Will you give him this and tell him if the note is delivered to Miss Barbour personally there will be more when he comes back?" He held out his hand. As if not seeing aright, Carmencita looked closely at what was held toward her, then up in Van Landing's face. "You must have plenty of money, if you haven't any friends," she said, and in her voice was faint suspicion. "Noodles can't have that.
Putting the magazine on the table, Carmencita drew the stool on which she was sitting closer to Van Landing's chair, and, hands clasped around her knees, looked up into his eyes. In hers was puzzled questioning. "I beg your pardon." His face flushed under the grave scrutiny bent upon him. "I was reading abominably, but I couldn't get my mind " "I know," Carmencita nodded understandingly.
Hands on his knees, Carmencita watched the awkward movements of Van Landing's fingers, then she laughed joyously, but when she spoke her voice was in a whisper. "I'm writing a book." "You are doing what?" "Writing a book! It's perfectly grand. That is, some days it is, but most days it is a mess. It was a mess yesterday, and I burned up every single word I wrote last week.
In a chair near the window, hands in her lap and feet on the rounds, Carmencita waited, her eyes missing no detail of the scene about her, and at Miss Davis, who came over to talk to her, she looked with frank admiration. For a moment there was hesitating uncertainty in Van Landing's face; then he turned to Herrick. "Come into the next room, will you, Herrick? I want to speak to you a minute."
"Oh, sir, I cannot make her understand, cannot keep her from talking to strangers!" The troubled voice was of a strange quality for so shabbily clothed a body, and in the eyes that saw not, and which were lifted to Van Landing's, was sudden terror. "She believes all people to be her friends. I cannot always be with her, and some day "
Reluctantly, she let Constance draw her down, and presently, in a voice rich with loyal pride, as the carriage moved on, bade Charlie and Miranda observe that only things made contraband by the Richmond Congress were burning, while all the Coast Landing's wealth of Louisiana foodstuffs, in barrels and hogsheads, bags and tierces, lay unharmed.
He oughtn't to drink" she raised her eyes to Van Landing's "but a man who's got a wife like his is bound to do something, and sometimes I wish I could put the water on her instead of him." For a moment Van Landing walked up and down the room, hands in his pockets and heart pounding in a way of which he was ashamed.
It's going to be Christmas two days after to-morrow, Father, and the Christ-child wouldn't like it if you let him go!" Carmencita held the sleeve of Van Landing's coat with a sturdy clutch. "He isn't a damanarkist. I can tell by his eyes. They are so lonely-looking. You aren't telling a story, are you Mr. Van? Is it truly truth that you haven't anybody?" "It is truly truth," he said.
"That's greater yet. And it gives us another day in Edmonton." "Which isn't very great," commented the Count. "I've seen all I want to of this place. It's nothing but banks and restaurants. What's Athabasca Landing like, Colonel Howell?" he added a little petulantly. "Oh, the Landing's nothing but saloons and the river, and beyond it," he added significantly, "there's nothing but the river."
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