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Updated: May 18, 2025
The one sure thing about the statement was that Rand's Peach Nectar could be had, in large or small quantities, as desired. And the Tribune was prepared to state; on its own authority, that a Mr. Humphrey Crewe did exist, and might reluctantly consent to take the nomination for the governorship. In industry and zeal he was said to resemble the celebrated and lamented Mr. Rand, of the Peach Nectar.
Curious, wasn't it, that passage between Mr. Rand and Fairfax Cary? D'ye suppose he thought d'ye suppose Fairfax Cary thought " "It isn't what a man thinks," stated a surly farmer. "It's what a man can prove." "Well, he couldn't prove that if he tried till doomsday!" cried another. "That's not Lewis Rand's trade!" "You're right there, Jim," assented the group.
Nelda had been pacing back and forth like a caged tiger; at Rand's entrance, she turned to face him, and Rand wondered whether she thought he was Clyde Beatty or a side of beef. Goode and Dunmore sat together on the sofa, forming what looked like a bilateral offensive and defensive alliance, and Varcek, looking more than ever like Rudolf Hess, stood with folded arms in one corner.
She had a sudden memory of Rand's face ere he grew to manhood, of the ardent eyes and the involuntary gesture of reverence which he used when he spoke of Mr. Jefferson. He could not even speak of him without a certain trembling of the voice. Any one could see the change in him since then, but it was hardly to be believed that the old feeling did not abide at the bottom of the well! Mrs.
"All right," said Donald, when Dick had finished, "we'll forgive you this time, but don't let it happen again." The boys were in their club room in the attic of Mr. Scott's house, which had been given over to Rand's use.
And Joe's feet, not being encased in big rubber boots, were small enough to be drawn into the same hole where Rand's was caught. The diver was standing with most of his weight on his left foot. It was the right one that was caught, and this was thrust forward and outward, at an angle of about forty-five degrees from the upright one.
He got out his cigarettes, offered them, and snapped his lighter. "I notice you're having cocktails in the drawing-room now." "Yes. I suppose, in time, I'll stop imagining I see Fred Dunmore's blood on the library floor. I got used to what had happened in the gunroom last December. Shall we go in?" she asked, taking Rand's arm.
Yet the very next moment, when she turned, and caught Rand's eye fixed upon her, she started naturally, colored slightly, uttered that feminine adjuration, "Good Lord! gracious! goodness me!" which is seldom used in reference to its effect upon the hearer, and skipped instantly from the bowlder to the ground.
He seemed to be still suffering from the ignominy of admitting a house-guest through any but the main portal. Emerging into the front hallway, he put down the bags, took Rand's hat and coat and laid them on top of the luggage, and then went to an open doorway on the right, standing in it and coughing delicately, before announcing that Colonel Rand was here.
The dead man lay on his back, not three feet beyond the radius of the door, in a pool of blood that was almost dried and gave the room a sickly-sweet butchershop odor. Under the back of Rand's hand, Rivers's cheek was cold; his muscles had already begun to stiffen in rigor mortis. Rand examined the dead man's wounds.
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