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Updated: June 16, 2025
Pantin was doing every day. Her heart beat ridiculously and she was rather shocked to hear herself laughing shrilly at Mr. Pantin's banal inquiry as to whether she had not "nearly blown off." He added in some haste: "Priscilla's in the kitchen." Mrs. Pantin looked up in surprise at her caller's entrance. "How perfectly sweet of you to come out a day like this!" she chirped.
Pantin's bejewelled and rather clawlike fingers flew in and out of the embroidery hoop as she plied her needle, and while Mrs. Toomey adroitly selected the stockings which needed the least darning from her basket of mending, the latter came nearer really liking Priscilla Pantin than she had since she had known her. Mrs. Pantin exhibited a completed spray for Mrs.
Toomey had noted were in evidence when she wished particularly to have her position appreciated, the hostess, while expressing her pleasure, sought for the real purpose of the visit. Ostensibly admiring Mrs. Pantin's new coiffure, she thought, bridling, "Perhaps she's come to find out how we're managing since Mr. Pantin refused us." Yet Mrs.
Pantin's visit, dismount and tie her horse to the cottonwood sapling, for the threat, which held for her all the import of a Ku-Klux warning, had been hanging over her like the sword of Damocles. It had haunted her by day, and at night she could not sleep for thinking of it, and yet she was no nearer reaching a decision than when the struggle between her conscience and her cowardice had started.
Yet, somehow, the boy managed to say with his manner of deferential courtesy: "Mrs. Pantin, do you know Miss Prentice?" Ordinarily, a part of Mrs. Pantin's society manner was a vivacious chirp, but now she said coldly between her teeth: "I haven't that pleasure." She gave Kate her extreme finger tips with such obvious reluctance that the action was an affront. Disston glanced at Mrs.
It had. It was Mr. Pantin's dearest wish to come home boiling drunk with his hat smashed and his necktie hanging. He longed to kick the front door in and see his wife cower before him.
A handsome leather davenport with a neat row of sofa pillows along the back, which were of Mrs. Pantin's own handiwork, suggested luxurious ease. But the chief attraction of the room was the brick fireplace with its spotless tiled hearth. One of Mr. Pantin's diversions was sitting before the glowing coals, whisk and shovel in hand, waiting for an ash to drop. Seeing Mrs. Toomey, Mr.
No quaking soldier ever exerted more will power to go into battle than did Mrs. Toomey to answer: "I hope so." Mrs. Pantin's bright blue eyes sharpened. "Ah-h, they must have money!" she reflected. Aloud she said: "Really?" "Certainly." This was mutiny. Mrs. Pantin lifted a sparse eyebrow the one which the application of a burnt match improved wonderfully. "Do you think that's wise?" Mrs.
"It's quite evident the business men of Prouty agree with him, since none of them will trust her." "That doesn't alter my opinion." Mr. Pantin's reply was calm. "It's the person behind a loan that counts, anyway not the security. If I had been in Wentz's place when she said she could handle those sheep and meet the obligation when due, I should have believed her." Again Mr.
"I could not say exactly not off-hand like this but I presume only until my husband gets into something." "Has he er anything definite in view?" "I wouldn't say definite, not definite, but he has several irons in the fire and we expect to hear soon." "I see." Mr. Pantin's manner was urbane but, observing him closely, Mrs.
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