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It was by courage and the magic of personality some evocation of her lost gaiety and charm but above all by courage that she had contrived to impose it upon other people. The cult of Mr. Both Mr. and Mrs. Randall believed in Mr. Ransome with the fervent, immovable faith of innocence that has once for all taken an idea into its head. Long ago they had taken it into their heads that Mr.
I had a mind to come out and help only, you know. . . ." "Certainly not. You mustn't. . . . The fellows lie at night about the decks, too. It isn't good for them." Ransome assented. But men couldn't be looked after like children. Moreover, one could hardly blame them for trying for such coolness and such air as there was to be found on deck. He himself, of course, knew better.
Ransome closed his eyes again as if in pain. "I'd have given it you, Randall," he said, presently. He had opened his eyes, but they wandered uneasily, avoiding his son's gaze. "If I'd had it. But I hadn't. I've been doing badly." And again his eyelids dropped and lifted. "Things have gone wrong that hadn't ought to if I'd been what I should be." There was anguish in Ranny's father's eyes now.
Bolt was threatened in similar style, but he merely handed the missives to Ransome; he never flinched. Not so Little. He got nervous; and, in a weak moment, let his mother worm out of him that he was at war with the trades again. This added anxiety to her grief, and she became worse every day. Then Dr.
She had neglected it; she had been indifferent to it; but it had seemed impossible, not only to Ransome, but to Violet herself, that she could be positively unkind. He had charged the neglect to her ignorance, and the indifference to the perversity of her passion for her husband. It was thus that his mother had explained the mystery, and at moments it looked as if she might be right.
He dropped the bank-note into his own silk hat, and handed them to his companion, who accepted them without visible emotion. Evidently, brief though his stay in the building had been, Herbert Ransome Shaw had accustomed its watchman to surprises.
He sits in his bunk with his beard gone, his moustaches flaming, and with an air of silent determination on his chalky physiognomy. Ransome tells me he devours all the food that is given him to the last scrap, but that, apparently, he sleeps very little. Even at night, when I go below to fill my pipe, I notice that, though dozing flat on his back, he still looks very determined.
Now as Ransome, for obvious reasons, concealed the means by which this man had been detected, a conviction so mysterious shook that sense of security which ratteners had enjoyed for many years, and the trades began to find that craft had entered the lists with craft.
He looked sharply round the bunks in the tossing light of the lantern; and then, walking straight up to me, he addressed me, to my surprise, in tones of kindness. "My man," said he, "we want ye to serve in the round-house. You and Ransome are to change berths. Run away aft with ye."
Ransome, knew it, too, while these years she had comforted herself with the thought that, at least, it was her secret shame. Mrs. Carringford put an arm about her and kissed her. There was approval in the action. Emily looked at her, then laughed nervously, while a vivid scarlet rose to the roots of her chestnut hair.
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