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Updated: May 24, 2025
It might fall into Hawk's hands, and the fust thing he would do would be to turn it over to Lapelle, 'cause Martin cain't read himself." "I was only wondering if she could find out a little more about this man Suggs, just when he lived there and and all that." "He's purty close-mouthed, she says. Got to be, I reckon.
Even though she cast off the ardent Lapelle, still he could not have her for his own. The bars were up, and it was now beyond his power to lower them. And so, with this resolve firmly fixed in his mind, he gave himself up to a strange sort of despair. After supper at the tavern, he set out for a solitary stroll about the town before going to bed. He took stock of himself.
He lifted his hat and, touching the spirited mare with the gad, rode swiftly away. A few hundred feet ahead he overtook his mud-spattered friend and the two of them were soon lost to sight among the trees. Kenneth fell into profound cogitation. Evidently Lapelle had waited at the edge of the forest for a report of some description from the farmhouse belonging to Rachel Carter.
One hand was thrust between the buttons of his morning coat, the other clasped its lapelle, his head was flung back, and one foot rested on the fender. "An immense pity," he added, "that you can never mind your own business." Carrissima skilfully mimicked his attitude.
Lapelle had gone back on him, had betrayed him to his future mother-in-law. The fine gentleman had no further use for him; Mrs. Gwyn had given her consent to the marriage and in return for that he had betrayed a loyal friend! And now look at the position he was in, all through Barry Lapelle. Sheep stealing was nothing to what he might have to face.
'Nen the dogs begin to bark an' he thought mebby it wuz Mr. Lapelle, so he say, you mustn't get Mr. Lapelle mixed up in this. He " "I know all about Mr. Lapelle, Moll," interrupted the older woman. The girl gave her a sharp, almost hostile look. "Then you hain't goin' to let him have your girl, air you?" Mrs. Gwyn shook her head. "No, Moll, I am not," she said.
The memory of the look in Viola's eyes as she shrank away from Lapelle, the thought of the cruel shock she must have suffered, the picture of her as she came down the path to kill no, there could be no alternative!
Were I a vain person I should feel highly complimented." "Then you ARE Kenneth Gwynne?" said the stranger, rather curtly. "Yes. That is my name." "Permit me to make myself known to you. My name is Lapelle, Barry Lapelle. While mine no doubt is unfamiliar to you, yours is well known to me. In fact, it is known to every one in these parts. You have long been expected.
A lordly fellow, decided Kenneth, and forthwith took a keen dislike for him. Nevertheless, it was not difficult to account for Viola's interest in him; nor, to a certain extent, the folly which led her to undertake the exploit of the night before. Barry Lapelle would have his way with women. "You come from Kentucky, Mr. Gwynne," Lapelle was saying. "I am from Louisiana. My father came up to St.
He had gone not more than twenty rods when he heard a masculine shout from behind: turning, he discovered that the couple were still standing where he had left them. Lapelle called out: "Your sister wants to have a word with you." She rode swiftly up to where he was waiting. "I just want to let you know that I intend to tell mother about meeting Barry out here to-day," she said, unsmilingly.
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