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Updated: June 5, 2025
It seemed to him that there was no end to that dinner; no end to the pitiless ingenuity of Rankin's chef. And he always had hated being stared at. "I don't generally write on anything," he said. "Your last poem is an exception to your rule, then?" "It is. I wrote most of that on gin and water," said Rickman desperately.
Rankin's eyes had flashed with an unusual brilliancy as the sheriff had spoken of him being seen going toward the station previous to the finding of the agent's body, but they glazed over with unconcern during the rest of the recital. And as the sheriff concluded, Rankin gazed scornfully at him, sneering mildly: "I couldn't add nothin' to what you've just said."
All her life the men she knew had obeyed her, all except McClane. She didn't know John. He raised his head and looked at her with cool, concentrated dislike. "I'd rather stay where I am if you don't mind. I want to talk to Miss Redhead." "Oh " Mrs. Rankin's flush went out like a blown flame. Her lips made one pale, tight thread above the set square of her chin. All her light was in her eyes.
I haven't got the heart somehow to change anything. We use up a good many horses one way and another during a year, and when I get squared around I'm going to start a herd there with one of the boys to look after it. It was Rankin's idea too." "You expect to keep on ranching, then?" "Why not?" "I thought, perhaps, now that you had plenty to do with You're young, you know."
Bittleson, Captain Rankin's batman, who happened to be looking out of the top window at the time, swore that the bomb which went through the roof beside him had grazed his forehead. The bomb which had failed to explode in the square was taken possession of by our staff sergeant and placed on my laboratory table as a souvenir.
Melton took up another line of attack "she'd want a motor-car and 'nice' associates and a fashionable school for the children, and a home in the 'respectable' part of town." Rankin's easy-going manner changed. He sat up and frowned. "There you step on one of my corns, Doctor" he did not apologize for the rustic metaphor "I don't believe a single, solitary identical word of that.
"Finally, I saw that I could never do any more good in Mason County, so I decided to take my freedom, too. I had a wife by this time, and one night we quietly slipped across and headed for Mr. Rankin's bell and light. It looked like we had to go almost to China to get across that river: I could hear the bell and see the light on Mr.
So Jewdwine had explained. And why had not Rankin asked for the explanation sooner? Why had he had to ask for it at all? Still, it was decent of him to admit that he ought not to have required it. He supposed that he must accept Rankin's invitation to dine. Except for his hunger, which made the prospect of dining so unique and great a thing, he had no reason for refusing.
The public could hardly keep up with the flight of Rankin's incarnations. Drawing-room comedy, pathetic pastoral, fantastic adventure, slum idyll and medieval romance, it was all one to Rankin. An infallible instinct told him which genre should be chosen at any given moment; a secret tocsin sounded far-off the hour of his success.
He had succeeded in letting the little house in Ealing, where the abominable furniture that had nearly cost so dear justified its existence by adding a small sum to his income. He had benefited indirectly by Rankin's greatness; for Rankin seldom contributed anything to The Planet now beyond his lively column once a week; and Rickman was frequently called on to fill his place.
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