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Updated: May 1, 2025
Van Lennop had no desire for food, much less for conversation, so he picked up the travel-worn newspaper which Britt had tossed upon the table and glanced at the headlines. The stock market was stronger. Nevada Con was up three points. The girl with the beautiful eyebrows had married that French jackanapes after all. Another famine in India. A Crowheart date-line caught his eye.
Tinhorn Frank guffawed; a few of his ilk did likewise, but the laughter died upon their lips at the blazing glance Van Lennop flashed them. "Essie, you are hurt! Your hand is bleeding!" Dr. Harpe shut her teeth hard at the concern in Van Lennop's voice as he helped the girl to her feet, but there was solicitude in her tone when she said: "Let me see if there's glass in it, Essie."
Will you stay with him?" She addressed Van Lennop. "Certainly." "Look here," protested the bartender in an injured voice. "He's my best friend and havin' had snakes myself " "Aw clear out all of you. We'll take care of him." "Folks that has snakes likes their bes' friends around 'em," declared the bartender stubbornly. "They has influence " "Get out," reiterated Dr.
"And God forbid that it ever should," breathed Van Lennop to himself at the window above. His eyes had grown a little moist at this exhibition of her loyalty and somehow the genuineness of it made him glow, the more perhaps that he was never without a lurking suspicion of the disinterestedness of women's friendship for the reasons which Dr. Harpe, for instance, knew.
The fact that he seemed always to have money for which he did not work inspired distrust. Then, too, as Mr. Rhodes shrewdly pointed out, he had the long white hands of a high-toned crook. As a result of the various theories advanced, Ogden Van Lennop came gradually to be looked at askance a fact of which he seemed totally oblivious.
It was, he told himself, like being privileged to witness the awakening of social ambitions in a tribe of bushmen. Van Lennop was silent, but the girl felt his unspoken sympathy, and it was balm to her sore little heart. "This society?" she asked after a time. "What is it? We've never had it before.
It's not likely he ever will with no word from her and this scandal comin' close on the heels of her silence. I'm a fool to worry to let myself get in such a state as this." She no longer entertained the hallucination that she might attract Van Lennop to herself; to save herself from public exposure, should he by any chance return, was her one thought, her only aim.
"Air-castles, Miss Tisdale?" he asked as he sauntered toward her. He still insisted upon the whimsical formality of "Miss Tisdale," although to all Crowheart, naturally, she was "Essie." The girl lifted her sombre eyes at the sound of his voice and the shadow in them gave them the look of deep blue velvet, Van Lennop thought.
While she believed in herself and her personal charm when she chose to exercise it, Van Lennop's tacit recognition of it brightened her eyes and softened her face into smiling curves of happiness. Van Lennop toyed with her fan and talked idly of impersonal things, but there was a veiled look of curiosity in his eyes, a kind of puzzled wonder each time that they rested upon her face.
The action was womanly, she herself looked softer, more womanly, than she had appeared to Van Lennop, yet he felt no relenting and wondered at himself. She ended another silence by turning to him suddenly and asking with something of a child's blunt candor "You don't like me, do you?" The awkward and unexpected question surprised him and he did not immediately reply.
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