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And it goes a great deal deeper than style, I assure you. Mr. Queed, you're all wrong from the beginning." Her eyes left his face; went first to the clock; glanced around the room. Sharlee's dress was blue, and her neck was as white as a wave's foamy tooth. Her manner was intended to convey to Mr. Queed that he was the smallest midge on all her crowded horizon.
In an hour, maybe more, maybe less, the Secretary stood at her side, his kind face calm as ever. "Well," he said quietly, "how do you explain it?" Sharlee's eyes offered him bay-leaves for his victory. "There is a suggestion about it," said she, still rather white, "of thirty pieces of silver." "Oh! We can hardly say that.
Had you thought at all, yourself, what you would like to give?" "Yes," he said, frowning vaguely, "I examined the shop windows as I came down and pretty well decided on something. Then at the last minute I was not altogether sure." "Yes? Tell me what." "I thought I would give her a pair of silk mitts." Sharlee's eyes never left his, and her face was very sweet and grave.
On the little rustic bridge a hundred yards away, a man was standing, with rather the look of having stopped at just that minute. From a distance Sharlee's glance swept him lightly; she saw that she did not know him; and not fancying his frank stare, she drew near and stepped upon the bridge with a splendid unconsciousness of his presence.
"It is useless for this harangue to continue," he said, with a brow of storm. "Your conception of helpful advice ..." But Sharlee's voice, which had begun as soon as his, drowned him out.... "Complimented you a little too far, I see.
And indeed the little Doctor, with his prematurely old face and his shabby clothes, rather looked the part of the dependant. Sharlee's greeting was of the briefest. "Ah, Mr. Queed.... Sit down." Her negligent nod set him away at an immense distance; even he was aware that Charles Weyland had undergone some subtle but marked change since the morning.
Why should he play the spendthrift and the wanton with his love? Why give her, for nothing, the sterile satisfaction of rejecting him, for her to prize, as he knew girls did, as merely one more notch upon her gun? Leaving his tempestuous exclamation hanging in mid-air, West stiffly shook Sharlee's hand and walked blindly out of the room.
Running over with the most beautiful plans. The exact nature of these plans the writer did not indicate, but Sharlee's mother, who always got down to breakfast first and read all the postals as they came, explained that the reference was evidently to Blames College. West, however, did not sail on the 21st, even though that date was some days behind his original intentions.
Weyland, in the room above, began to let the tongs and poker fall about with unmistakable significance; and went out into the starlit night radiant with the certainty that his heart, after long wandering, had found its true mate at last. Sharlee's Parlor on Another Evening; how One Caller outsat Two, and why; also, how Sharlee looked in her Mirror for a Long Time, and why.
Paynter's were gathered about her hospitable board, plying the twin arts of supping and talking. And as Sharlee's fellow-diners talked of Mr. Queed, it chanced that Mr. Queed's fellow-suppers were talking of Sharlee, or at any rate of her family's famous misfortune. Mr.
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