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Updated: May 17, 2025
"It looks like we might be booked for Canada, Frank," he went on to say, a minute later, after they had fallen into the new "stride" comfortably, and were rushing forward on a level stretch, with the surface of the lake close at hand. "I shouldn't wonder," came the noncommital reply. Now, Andy knew his cousin like a book.
Did you?" But Alan only smiled his ironic, noncommital smile and remarked it was time for the invalid to take a nap. He had had enough conversation for the first attempt. Dick soon drifted off to sleep but Alan Massey prowled the streets of the Mexican city far into the night, with tireless, driven feet. The demons were after him again.
The feeling that I tapped was definitely Anti-Volunteer, but the number of people who would speak was few, and one regarded the noncommital folk who were so smiling and polite, and so prepared to talk, with much curiosity, seeking to read in their eyes, in their bearing, even in the cut of their clothes what might be the secret movements and cogitations of their minds.
There's the noon whistles." "Yon don't eat," replied Cora. "Don't, eh? Well, look out for your commissary department," answered Jack. "We came prepared to fight." "Oh," sighed Daisy, "do you suppose they will spoil all our boxes?" "I'm sure I don't know," replied the noncommital Maud. But Hazel said: "What do you suppose they are up to?" "Trust them for fun," answered Cora.
'Tex, he says, 'where's the pilgrim? I remains noncommital, an' he continues, 'I layed over yesterday to enjoy Purdy's funeral, which it was the biggest one ever pulled off in Wolf River not that any one give a damn about Purdy, but they've drug politics into it, an' furthermore, his'n was the only corpse to show for the whole celebration, it bein' plumb devoid of further casualties." The cowpuncher paused, referred to his bottle, and continued: "It's just like I told you before.
"Assuming that I'd acted in self defense, would there be much of a stir about it?" "Hm," came the noncommital response, but this time with closed eyes, for the Master of Arden had passed the point of active interest. It was a morning to invite sleep. No leaf stirred, but the shaded air was fresh and comforting.
After that, he went upstairs and asked Miss Peirce how his father was "feeling," receiving a noncommital reply; looked in at Cora's room; saw that his mother was lying asleep on Cora's bed and Cora herself examining the contents of a dressing-table drawer; and withdrew. A moment later, he stood in the passage outside Laura's closed door listening. There was no sound.
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