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The Sunday of the next week was a wonderful day, and Chad Newsome had let his friend know in advance that he had provided for it.
Will you talk to Mr. Newsome the next time he comes and see what he thinks of the plan? I would tell him about it myself only I I don't know why, but I don't want to." Rose Mary blushed and looked away across the Road, but her confusion was all unnoticed by Uncle Tucker, who was busily lighting a second pipeful of tobacco. "Yes, I'll talk to him and Crabtree both about it," he answered slowly.
She had really prefigured the possibility of a shock that would send him swinging back to Mrs. Newsome. He hadn't, it was true, week after week, shown signs of receiving it, but the possibility had been none the less in the air. What Maria accordingly had had now to take in was that the shock had descended and that he hadn't, all the same, swung back.
Was it at all possible for instance to like Paris enough without liking it too much? He luckily however hadn't promised Mrs. Newsome not to like it at all. He was ready to recognise at this stage that such an engagement WOULD have tied his hands. The Luxembourg Gardens were incontestably just so adorable at this hour by reason in addition to their intrinsic charm of his not having taken it.
They had come straight from Havre, having sailed from New York to that port, and having also, thanks to a happy voyage, made land with a promptitude that left Chad Newsome, who had meant to meet them at the dock, belated.
Newsome moreover not to announce him again; he had so distinct an opinion on his attacking his job, should he attack it at all, in his own way. Not the least of this lady's high merits for him was that he could absolutely rest on her word. She was the only woman he had known, even at Woollett, as to whom his conviction was positive that to lie was beyond her art.
Every man knows in marrying an unwilling woman he's putting himself down to eat nothing but scraps around the kitchen door. But I wisht Rose Mary could make up her mind to marry Mr. Newsome. She might as well, for in the end a woman can't tell nothing about taking a man; she just has to choose a can of a good brand and then be satisfied, for they all season and heat up about alike.
We have not time here to dwell on the things that happened at the old Hudson Bay Post during the ten days after their first happy reunion of the love that sprang up between Rod's mother and Minnetaki, and the princess wife of George Newsome, the factor; of the departure of the soldiers whose task of running down Woonga ended with Rod's desperate fight in the cabin, or of the preparations of the gold hunters themselves.
"Is there anything he can do that would make you patch it up?" "With Mrs. Newsome?" Her assent, as if she had had a delicacy about sounding the name, was only in her face; but she added with it: "Or is there anything he can do that would make HER try it?" "To patch it up with me?" His answer came at last in a conclusive headshake. "There's nothing any one can do. It's over. Over for both of us."
"Like all of you together like all of us: Woollett, Milrose and their products. We're abysmal but may we never be less so! Mr. Newsome," she continued, "meanwhile takes Miss Pocock ?" "Precisely to the Francais: to see what you took Waymarsh and me to, a family-bill." "Ah then may Mr. Chad enjoy it as I did!" But she saw so much in things.
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