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Updated: June 17, 2025
Harley likes to have me read aloud to him when he is tired." An impulse came upon Ridgway to hear her, some such impulse as makes a man bite on sore tooth even though he knows he must pay later for it. "Will you not go on with your reading? I should like to hear it. I really should." She was a little taken aback, but she looked inquiringly at her husband, who bowed silently.
When next Virginia Balfour saw Waring Ridgway she was driving her trap down one of the hit-or-miss streets of Mesa, where derricks, shaft-houses, and gray slag-dumps shoulder ornate mansions conglomerate of many unharmonious details of architecture.
Coues as to the resemblances of the carvings will thus be seen to coincide with those expressed above. Another prominent ornithologist, Mr. Ridgway, has also given verbal expression to precisely similar views.
Three of them, at least, were brooding over what the morning had brought forth, and trying to realize what it might mean for them. "We'd best be going, I expect," said Yesler at last. "We've got a right heavy bit of work cut out for us, and the horses are through feeding. We can't get started any too soon for me." Ridgway nodded silently.
If Ridgway expected his opponent to pay his flippant gibe the honor of repartee, he was disappointed. To be sure, Hobart, admirably erect in his slender grace, was moved to a slight, disdainful smile, but it evidenced scarcely the appreciation that anybody less impervious to criticism than Ridgway would have cared to see.
The change of the relationship between Ridgway and his betrothed, brought about by the advent of a third person into his life, showed itself in the manner of their greeting. She had always been chary of lovers' demonstrations, but until his return from Alpine he had been wont to exact his privilege in spite of her reluctance. Now he was content with the hand she offered him.
"Few people take their religion so closely into their every-day lives as he does," she replied in a low voice, seeing that her husband was lost in thought. "I am sure you are right." "He is very greatly misunderstood, Mr. Ridgway. I am sure if people knew how good he is But how can they know when the newspapers are so full of falsehoods about him? And the magazines are as bad, he says.
Was he, too, about to be "caught in the coil of a God's romances," or was he merely playing on the vibrating strings of an untaught heart? It was in part to satisfy this craving for knowledge that she wrote Ridgway a note as soon as she reached home.
"Go to it, Waring." His host waved him the freedom of the diningroom, and Ridgway fell to. Never before had food tasted so good. He had been too sleepy to cat last night, but now he made amends.
Curiously enough, whenever she conceived herself as marrying Ridgway, the reflex of her brain carried to her a picture of Hobart, clean-handed, fine of instinct, with the inherited inflections of voice and unconscious pride of caste that come from breeding and not from cultivation.
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