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Updated: July 6, 2025
Ravenel's flatteries, when rare chance brought him and the poetess together, were without purpose, and justified in his liberal mind by the right of every Southern gentleman to treat as irresistible any and every woman in her turn. "Got to do something pleasant, Miss Fannie; can't buy her poetry."
"They are, sir," said the clerk, gazing absently beyond him, and took March's card. "Front! I'll have to send it to the lady, sir; Colonel Ravenel's sick. What? Oh, well, sir, if you think pneumonia's slight Yes, sir, that's what he's got." He was turning away contemptuously, but John said: "Oh! eh one moment more, if you please." "Well, sir, what is it?"
"But he threatens to cross it from the wrong side," replied John, posing sturdily. Ravenel's smile broadened. "Most any man, Mr. March, could be enticed across." The mouth of the enticer opened, but his tongue failed. "A coat of tah and feathers will show him he mustn't even be enticed across," rejoined Lazarus.
Bulger isn't coming back for a while at all; they've made him secretary." A perceptible shade came over Ravenel's face, although he smiled as he said, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Have they made you vice-president?" "Yea, they have!
In the long prayer the diversity of sects and fashions showed forth; but a majority tried hard not to resent any posture different from their own, although Miss Martha Salter and many others who buried their faces in their own seats, knew that Mr. Ravenel's eyes were counting the cracks in the plastering. Barbara knelt forward the Montrose mode.
He belonged to the poet's club, for the former Browns had been conspicuous, though Sammy had been vulgarized by Business. He had no tears for departed Romance. The song of the ticker was the one that reached his heart, and when it came to matters equine and batting scores he was something of a pink edition. He loved to sit in the leather armchair by Ravenel's window.
I will wait, though my youth, alas! is slipping from me; but I will wait two years, three any time you choose to name." John needed not to reply. The very sorrow of his decision showed how inevitable and irrevocable it was. Lord Ravenel's pride rose against it. "I fear in this my novel position I am somewhat slow of comprehension.
"Didn't your father save his life at Ramazan?" It was Katrine's turn to be bewildered. "I never heard of Ramazan," she said. "Where is it?" "And he was not present at your father's marriage in Italy?" Katrine shook her head; but to Ravenel's astonishment she began to wear an amused smile as he repeated McDermott's tale to her bit by bit.
Over there were the two churches, and one window of Ravenel's house. March had not been in that house a fourth as many times as he had been prettily upbraided for not coming. "Fannie's grea-atly cha-anged!" Parson Tombs said, with solemn triumph. John had dreamily assented.
She recalled, as she was prone to do, what Charlie Champion had once meditatively said to her on seeing him approach: "Here comes the only man in Dixie Jeff-Jack Ravenel's afraid of." After an instant the manner of the two young men became more serious, and March showed a yellow paper "a telegram," thought their on-looker.
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