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Updated: June 29, 2025
Sark is just a honeycomb of caves." "Spiffing!" said Miss Penny. "If Mr. Pixley gets on our track we'll play hide-and-seek in them with him." "Then we ought to spend a day on Brecqhou " "A day on Brecqhou without a doubt!" "And if we can get the boat from Guernsey to call for us at the Eperquerie, and can get a boat there to put us aboard, we might manage Alderney."
If it were not for that, Pixley would probably never have wanted to marry her. Money was answerable for half the ills of life, and the contrariness of woman for the other half. Confound money! Confound Well, truly, his state of mind was not a happy one.
The great crowd that had gathered and choked the galleries and the floor beyond the bar, and the Senators who had left their own chamber to watch the bill in the House, all began to feel disappointed; for nothing happened until Pixley's name was called. Pixley voted "No!"
"Bruno and mother will know what is the matter," he thought hopefully. "I'll ask them as soon as I get home to-night." He looked back wistfully several times to see if the kindly, grey-eyed stranger might be following them, but he had taken the opposite trail from the one Mr. Pixley was travelling. Jan did not mind the long tramp which ended at a place where houses were scattered about.
Pixley and the pince-nez wafted him towards the door, and the lumpy cobbles of the courtyard outside seemed to him, for the moment, absolutely typical of life. He went back home numbed and sore at heart. It was hard to believe this of Margaret Brandt. And yet he said to himself it was wholly he who was to blame. He had deceived himself.
Now when he might have let himself turn to her, his heart freed of the image of that yellow-haired girl so long cherished, this other was the wife of Elder Pixley the fifth wife and an unloving wife as he knew. She had sought him before the marriage, and there had been some wholly frank and simple talk between them.
And Pixley of the Argonaut has given me a chance to do some stories. I shall be an author pretty soon like Harte and Clemens." "Or a poet like this Cincinnatus Heinie Miller, whom one hears about. Fancy such a name. I should think he'd change it." "He has already," laughed Francisco. "Calls himself Joaquin after Marietta, the bandit. Joaquin Miller rather catchy, isn't it?
I have heard that once when, in the fervour of a speech, Mr. Pixley dropped his pince-nez among the reporters below, he was utterly unable to continue until the fetish was recovered and handed back to him. It is an undoubted fact that though you might forget the exact lines of Mr. Pixley's face and even his words, you never forgot the fascinating evolutions of his heavy gold pince-nez.
"After I talked to him out here on this very barrel," said Pixley, his anathema concluded, "I raised the bid on him; yessir, you kin skin me fer a dead skunk if I didn't offer him ten dollars and a box of cigars fer the bunch; and him jest settin' there laughin' like a plumb fool and tellin' me I didn't need to worry, they'd all vote Republican fer nothin'! Talked like a parrot: 'Vote a Republican!
Then he saw dog tracks leading in two directions from the steps, but none of the older dogs were waiting for him. As he looked up with questioning, brown eyes, Brother Antoine leaned down and fastened a stout rope to the new collar and handed the end of this rope to Mr. Pixley, who was muffled in his big, fur coat. A guide was with Mr. Pixley.
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