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Updated: May 18, 2025
As he entered it a girl bustling about a long table in the big stove-warmed room turned with la little smile. "It's only you!" she said. "Now I was figuring it was Lance Courthorne." Winston, impatient as he was, stopped and laughed, for the hotel-keeper's daughter was tolerably well-favored and a friend of his. "And you're disappointed?" he said.
His tone had grown a trifle graver as he went on, but his companion waited, feeling that he had a little more to say, and that he might offer her a hint of some kind, as, in fact, he presently did. "The sound sticks don't grow in stove-warmed houses, but out in the wind and sun," he said. That was sufficient for Mrs.
He had come suddenly out of the bitter frost into the little, brightly-lighted, stove-warmed room. The comfort and cheeriness of it appealed to him. "This looks very cozy after my desolate room at the Range," he remarked. "Then if you'll stay I'll cook you supper. I suppose there's nothing to take you home?" "No," declared Hawtrey with a significant glance at her, "there certainly isn't, Sally.
He had gone in another minute, and Maud Barrington turned back into the stove-warmed room very quietly. Her lips were, however, somewhat closely set.
"Then," said Winston quietly, "I'll go down with you, but I can make no promise until I have heard the others." Dane smiled a little. "That is all I want. I don't know whether I told you that Maud Barrington is there. Would to-morrow suit you?" "No," said Winston. "I will come to-day." It was early next morning when they stepped out of the stove-warmed car into the stinging cold of the prairie.
In any case, they hove her to one misty evening in a deep inlet behind a promontory, and Wyllard, who sculled up it alone in the growing darkness, badly startled the agent of an A.C.C. factory when he appeared, ragged, haggard, and wet with rain, in the doorway of a big, stove-warmed room.
He had come suddenly out of the bitter frost into the little, brightly-lighted, stove-warmed room. In another few moments, however, the comfort and cheeriness of it appealed to him. "This looks very cosy after my desolate room at the Range," he said. "Then if you'll stay I'll make you supper. I suppose there's nothing to take you home?"
In any case, they hove the vessel to, one misty evening, in a deep inlet behind a promontory, and Wyllard, who sculled up the inlet alone in the growing darkness, badly startled the agent of an A.C.C. factory when he appeared, ragged, haggard, and wet with rain, in the doorway of a big, stove-warmed room.
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