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Updated: June 11, 2025
They started at the sound of a voice calling her name, and they saw William Pressley come out of the dark shadows beneath the trees, and stand still, waiting for them to approach. "It is late, my dear, for you to be roaming about the woods like this," he said, when they were near enough.
"It is probable that the early dying of the wasps and flies may have had something to do with the fineness of the fruit," said William Pressley, quite seriously, with formal politeness and a touch of impatience at the interruption.
The promise had been made, and she was bound by it, until she could tell William Pressley the truth and ask him to set her free. Soft and feminine as her nature was, she had nevertheless a singularly clear, firm sense of honor as most men understand that term and as few women do. She had already tried more than once to tell him, but he had been almost constantly away from home of late.
He still found, to be sure, some amusement in the young man's estimate of himself; but he never doubted its sincerity or questioned its harmlessness. It did not occur to him that Ruth might be troubled by these matters which merely made him smile. There would have been a warning for him in the look which she now gave William Pressley had he seen it.
Carroll. "If there was one, Pink Pressley is of its lineage, I am sure," said Sydney. "If heredity counts for anything, I should think that a colony of black sheep whose diet had been wild oats would account for all the lawlessness of the community," offered John. "For a great deal of it, undoubtedly, and their life of freedom from restraint for so many years would be responsible for more."
He waved his hand towards the cabin, and Bob, in his turn, flushed as he shook hands with Melissa. The girl gave scant greeting to Pressley. Her husband's new friendship with him was distasteful to her; it filled her with foreboding when she remembered his threats.
Hit was fellers that was mad with me who told on me befo', 'n Ah've fixed hit this time so Ah ain' got no enemies. They's only one feller that might inform." "Who's that?" "You." The Baron flung up his head in quick scorn, and Pressley noted the gesture shrewdly, and nodded in satisfaction. Still he drove in another nail. "A feller who'll listen will tell." Friedrich colored angrily.
And then, with his hand on the latch, he paused and turned, and looking over her head, gazed steadily and meaningly into the eyes of the three men. He looked first and longest at Philip Alston; then at William Pressley, and finally at the judge, with a slight change of expression.
He looked round at Ruth to see if she shared his feeling, and saw that she was gazing at William Pressley with troubled eyes. They had scarcely exchanged a word since their quarrel, although she had made many timid advances toward a reconciliation. It was conscience and not love which had moved her in all that she had done, but this fact was not yet clear to her own mind.
That's the thing! How did they find out enough to enable them to set this villanous trap? All those assassins hidden there in the darkness of the Cypress Swamp, waiting to spring out on one man!" He turned suddenly to the priest. "What is your opinion, Father? Have you the slightest idea how they could have learned anything of our plan?" Father Orin looked straight at William Pressley.
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