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Updated: June 20, 2025
Rawson led them, and they shrank from the rude children and coarse women whom they encountered in the halls and on the stairs, and pressed closer together, grasping each other's hands. Nan's face whitened and her thin hands were clasped tightly together as she heard them coming along the hall. She knew it was they, so different were their quiet footsteps from most that passed her door.
Nan's eyes sparkled; but she shook her head. "We sat together in primary school, and we've always been in the same grade through grammar and into high," went on Bess, who was really very faithful in her friendships. "It would just break my heart, Nan, if we were to be separated now." Nan put her arm about her.
"Because he'd just had a cable from India about ten minutes before Sandy arrived telling him that his wife had gone mad, and asking him to fetch her home." "Gone mad?" Nan's voice was hardly more than a whisper of horror. "Yes. He'd had a letter a day or two earlier warning him that things weren't going right with her.
There was only a puddle in a little hollow at the mouth of the cave. The roaring of the stream through the gorge was not so loud. "It will all soon be over What's that?" Nan's cry was echoed by Grace: "Is it Walter? Walter!" she cried. A figure loomed up from around the corner of the boulder that half masked the entrance to the old bears' den. But the figure made no answer to the challenge.
She turned in the latter direction. She had noticed that afternoon that there was a lane between Gypsy Nan's house and the corner; she gained this and slipped into it unobserved. And now, in the comparative darkness, she hurried her steps.
No one else would, but she's got nine lives, you know." Gerda came next behind Nan. For a moment she paused, dubiously, watching Nan's flying, brakeless progress down the wild ribbon of a footpath, between the hill and the sea. A false swerve, a failure to turn with the path, and one would fly off the cliff's edge into space, fall down perhaps to the blue rock pools far below.
Had Roger been just his normal self that afternoon his matter-of-fact, imperceptive self he would never have known how to answer Nan's half-desperate question, and the rose-garden might have witnessed a different ending to the scene.
"If we aren't we will never be," answered Dorothy Minturn, who was Nan's "seashore cousin" as she called the visitor. "I've got on so many things that it would be easier to roll along instead of walking," went on Dorothy with a laugh. "Well, it's a good thing to be warm, for it will be cold on the ice- boat; won't it, Bert?" asked Harry. "That's what it will. There's a good wind blowing, too.
Dumbly she forced her trembling body into subjection to her will. She crossed the hall without faltering, and went without sound or backward glance up the stairs. And the man was left alone in the flickering firelight. To Mona fell the task of making preparation for Nan's departure, for Nan herself did not raise a finger to that end.
Nan repeated the words with an emphasis there could be no mistaking. And as the final syllable escaped her pretty lips became firmly compressed. Elvine regarded her for a silent moment or two. A strange new sensation was stirring within her. Nan's attitude had brought it into being. Her earlier emotions receded before this new feeling.
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