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Updated: May 18, 2025
Acting upon Rand's suggestion the boys separated, each taking a different course, meeting later at the boathouse. The place was in darkness when Rand, who was the first to arrive, got there. Making a hasty examination by the light of a match he saw that the shell was all right. Keeping in the dark, he waited until the others, slipping up like so many shadows, had come.
And just as she was standing back admiring her work in comes Cissie, wringing her hands. The baby had poked out every last one of those isinglass windows while Cissie was in the kitchen warming up his milk. And there you are. And there's people that say there is no God and no justice in this world. "Josephine Rand's starting in on her rugs and begging rags from friends and enemies.
In this narrative he is active and creative Nature itself, directing and sporting with the warring elements. His vast practical joking cannot fail to remind the reader yet again of the Norse deities and their jovial household godhood. This tradition is Micmac, and taken almost entirely from Mr. Rand's manuscript.
"We can have our drink up there, while Colonel Rand's looking at the pistols.... Coming with us, Geraldine?" Geraldine rose, not too steadily, her glass still in her hand, and took Rand's left arm. Gladys, seeing Nelda moving in on the detective's right, took his other arm. Nelda was barely successful in suppressing a look of murderous anger.
"Mr. Rand's horse, Burwell," directed the master, in a cheerful voice, then, when the negro was gone, spoke on without change of tone. "The night has altered while we talked. There is a great bank of cloud in the west, and I think the drouth is broken. You will reach Roselands, however, before the rain comes down. Pray present my respectful salutations to Mrs. Rand."
It was in the year 1790 that he broke Gideon Rand's resistance to his son's devotion to other gods than those of the Rands. The year that followed that evening on the Albemarle road found Lewis Rand reading law in an office in Charlottesville.
On the floor, midway between the stairway and the door, lay Fred Dunmore. His tan coat and vest were turning dark in several places, and Rand's own Detective Special was lying a few inches from his left hand. "He came in here and shut the door," Ritter reported. "I couldn't follow him in, so I took a plant in the hall.
She said she hadn't more 'n a grain o' that to spare, she was so poor; but I told her 't would be blest, I guessed. Widow Rand's rather worldly-minded, I'm afraid." A minute more and we should have had Hindostan, Harriet Newell, and Juggernaut. Happily, somebody came for the Deacon, and we were left to our packing again. This was the second week in May, in the year 1830.
So far nobody knows you took these things, and even when they turn up missing, if you go about your work as if nothing had happened, while you may be suspected, nobody can prove that you got the goods." Rand's face brightened at this remark. "By Jove! that's true enough," said he. "Excepting Gallagher," he added, his face falling.
Chavallie Colonel Harvie Major Gibbon Dr. Foushee Mr. Warrington Major Willis Mr. Wickham Mr. Rand " There was a moment's check while Lynch craned his neck. "Mr. Rand's not here, I believe?" "Lewis Rand, no!" quoth Mr. Wickham. "What should he do in a mere coffee house with mere earthly newspapers? He's walking somewhere in a laurel garden in the cool of the evening."
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