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Updated: June 3, 2025
Scudaway was saying in an urgent undertone to the half dozen who leaned across the big table: "Joe is a mighty good sort, and I'm sorry for him. He's been good enough for Eleanor Thursdale ever since she came out two years ago, and I don't see why he should cease being good enough for her now. This Englishman hasn't any more money and he isn't half as good looking. He's English, that's all.
I must take my punishment alone." She drew her hand away, sighing. "Oh, there will be no punishment for either of you." "For either of us? There will be the reading of her letter for me." She shook her head with a slight laugh. "There will be no letter." Thursdale faced about from the threshold with fresh life in his look. "No letter? You don't mean "
The point of view is original she insists on a man with a past!" "Oh, a past if she's serious I could rake up a past!" he said with a laugh. "So I suggested: but she has her eyes on his particular portion of it. She insists on making it a test case. She wanted to know what you had done to me; and before I could guess her drift I blundered into telling her." Thursdale drew a difficult breath.
It surprised Thursdale to find what freshness of heart he brought to the adventure; and though his sense of irony prevented his ascribing his intactness to any conscious purpose, he could but rejoice in the fact that his sentimental economies had left him such a large surplus to draw upon. Mrs. Vervain was at home as usual.
"If it is necessary to have a reason that was one." "To talk to me about Miss Gaynor?" "To tell you how she talks about you." "That will be very interesting especially if you have seen her since her second visit to me." "Her second visit?" Thursdale pushed his chair back with a start and moved to another. "She came to see you again?" "This morning, yes by appointment."
It was the first time he had ever asked her to explain anything; and she had lived so long in dread of offering elucidations which were not wanted, that she seemed unable to produce one on the spot. At last she said slowly: "She came to find out if you were really free." Thursdale colored again. "Free?" he stammered, with a sense of physical disgust at contact with such crassness.
It isn't that she " "Hang it all, man, I knew that," expostulated Windomshire. "It was a mistake all around. I love Anne, don't you know. There's no real harm done, I'm sure. But what puzzles me is this: why does Miss Thursdale persist in pursuing us if she loves you and doesn't care to marry me?" "The deuce! I like that," cried Dauntless. "You'd better begin by asking questions at home."
Windomshire is not a despised enemy. He's a VERY nice man, Mr. Derby," she interrupted. "Certainly, Miss Thursdale. What I meant to say was, that he was morally sure of preventing the wedding if he could only keep you far enough apart. Now that is probably what he has done. You can't marry Joe in Omegon or anywhere else unless he is there and not in Fenlock." "I see.
How are you to-day?" he asked, scarcely able to hide his annoyance. "That is the tenth time you've asked me that question. I must repeat: I am quite well." "Oh, pardon my inquisitiveness. It has been a very long day, you know." "I want you and Miss Thursdale to dine with me at eight this evening. I think I'll have a little surprise for you," she said mysteriously.
Her nerves at highest tension, Miss Thursdale made her way toward the rear platform of the train. She passed down the curtained aisles of two coaches, wondering how people could sleep so soundly in a crisis like this. A porter politely opened a door and she slipped out upon the last platform.
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