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Updated: April 30, 2025
Mayrant had come impulsively back to me from his aunts, without stopping to think that we had never yet exchanged a word; both of us were now brought up short, and it was the cake that was speaking volubly in our self-conscious dumbness.
You will naturally think that it was an appointment with his ladylove which he had forgotten; this was certainly my supposition as I turned again to the front door. There stood one of the waitresses, glaring with her white eyes half out of her black face at the already distant back of John Mayrant. "Oh!"
Had I made sure of anything at the landing? Yes; Hortense didn't care for Charley in the least, and never would. A woman can stamp her foot at a man and love him simultaneously; but those two light taps, and the measure that her eyes took of Charley, meant that she must love his possessions very much to be able to bear him at all. Then, what was her feeling about John Mayrant?
By that time I should think they might have a chance of hearing 'Yankee Doodle' in Kings Port." Again she checked a rapid retort. "Well," she, after a pause, repeated, "you have been really quite nice." "May I tell you what you have been?" "Certainly not. Have you seen Mr. Mayrant to-day?" "We have an engagement to walk this afternoon. May I go walking with you sometime?" "May he, General?"
My nephew protested against any gentleman remaining at the custom house since the recent insulting appointment." "Every Mayrant is ferocious that I ever heard of," she continued. "You cannot trust that seemingly delicate and human exterior.
His office was not alone the care and the showing off of the graveyard, but another duty, too, as native and peculiar to the soil as the very cotton and the rice: this loyal servitor cherished the honor of the "old famblies," and chide their young descendants whenever he considered that they needed it. Mayrant now sat revived after his collapse of mirth, and he addressed me from his gravestone.
Hadn't I, perhaps, over-sentimentalized to myself the case of John Mayrant? Hadn't I imagined for him ever so much more anxiety than the boy actually felt? For people can idealize down just as readily as they can idealize up.
"Do you believe everything still?" he answered. "Can you?" As he looked at me, I suppose that he read negation in my eyes. "No more can I," he murmured. Again he looked in among the tombstones and flowers, where the old custodian saw us and took off his hat. "Howdy, Daddy Ben!" John Mayrant returned pleasantly, and then resuming to me: "No more can I believe everything."
"Quaint" was the word that did most of this work for her; she found everything that, even the negroes; and when she had come to the end of it, she supposed the inside must be just as "quaint" as the outside. "It is," said John Mayrant. He was enjoying Kitty. Then he became impertinent. "You ought to see it." "Do you stay inside much?" said Kitty. "We all do," said John.
I stepped barefoot across the wooden floor to where lay my watch, but it marked an unearthly hour, for I had neglected to wind it at the end of our long and convivial evening of which my head was now giving me some news. And then I saw a note addressed to me from John Mayrant.
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