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Updated: June 4, 2025
How on earth, Mallett, do you suppose Jack Dysart ever got himself mixed up with such a lot of skyrockets and disreputable fly-by-nights?" Duane did not answer. He had nothing good to say or think of Dysart. Rosalie reappeared at that moment in her distractingly pretty pongee motor-coat and hat. "Do come back with us, Duane," she said. "There's a rumble and we'll get the mud off you with a hose."
"Perhaps you will take me for a long trip one day who knows?" she laughed. "Yesterday it was perfect." A few moments later we arrived before the Suisse, and from a seat on the Promenade Count Bindo rose to greet us. He had left his motor-coat and cap in the car, and stood before us in his grey flannels and white soft felt hat a smart, handsome figure, such as women mostly admire.
Claude said he must stay with his horses, and ran back to the hitch-bar. Enid didn't keep him waiting long; she wasn't that kind. She came swiftly down the path and through the front gate in the Maine seal motor-coat she wore when she drove her coupe in cold weather. "Now, which way?" Claude asked as the horses sprang forward and the bells began to jingle. "Almost any way. What a beautiful night!
To one of his blood there was delight, intoxication, in that room; but something of apprehension, too, now grew up within him. Madame de Medici entered. The garish motor-coat was discarded now, and her supple figure was seen to best advantage in one of those dark silken gowns which she affected, and which had a seeming of the ultra-fashionable because they defied fashion.
You make conditions with me?" "Certainly, I have the right." "You are extraordinary." "I am a Dutchman." "Oh, here comes Lady MacNairne in her motor-coat and hood. She bought them yesterday because they're Tibe-color. What excuse can I make? Oh, what are your conditions?" "First, that you tell me you want me to stay." "I do on their account." "That's not the way." "Well, then, I ask you to stay.
"You ladies had better have it all to yourselves, and then you can be comfortable. Terry and I, on the driver's seat, will act as a kind of screen for you against the wind." "But you really don't take up nearly as much room as Maida does in her thick motor-coat," said Mrs. Kidder. "If she's not afraid " "Of course I'm not afraid!" cut in Maida.
It was the stranger who was the first to act. Pushing past Fred, and slipping from his own shoulders the long motor-coat, he flung it over the suit of purple-gray. The goggles he clapped upon the old man's frightened eyes, the golf-cap he pulled down over the white hair. With one arm he lifted the convict, and with the other dragged and pushed him into the seat beside the chauffeur.
Come in!" He expected to see some village messenger, and the sight of Piers, stern-faced, with the fur collar of his motor-coat turned up to his ears, was a complete surprise. "Hullo!" he said, staring at him. "Anything wrong?" Piers stared back with eyes of burning hostility. "I want a word with you," he announced curtly. "Will you come out, or shall I come in?"
She was seated in the further, opposite corner, wore a long, loose motor-coat, which could not altogether conceal the fine lines of her lithe figure, and a thick veil hid her face. A motive for the excited behavior of the negro chauffeur suggested itself to my mind; a label; "Engaged," was pasted to the window! I glanced across the compartment.
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