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While the crowded House about him was again listening with attention to the speech which had just brought the protesting Fontenoy to his legs; while his leader was fidgeting and muttering beside him; while to his left the crowd of members round the door was constantly melting, constantly reassembling, Tressady's mind withdrew itself from its surroundings, saw nothing, heard nothing, but the scenes of a far-off London and a figure that moved among them.
No, but there may be honest advance and change why not? And if she had influenced him was it not Maxwell's work and thought that had spoken through her? "Well, anyway," said Tressady's voice beside her, "whatever happens you'll believe " "That you won't help to give us the coup de grace unless you must?" she said, half laughing, yet with manifest emotion. "Anyway, I should have believed that."
On the other hand, the instinctive strength and acuteness of Fontenoy's judgment were unmatched, according to Tressady's belief, in the House of Commons. He was hardly ever deceived in a man, or in the significant points of a situation. His followers never dreamt of questioning his verdict on a point of tactics. They followed him blindly; and if the gods sent defeat, no one blamed Fontenoy.
"Aye, Joel Tressady's alive again." "God love us!" gasped the giant and sank into a chair.
"A decent woman, I mean, whom one can still have in one's house. All she can do is to cry, and take a district." When they reached Upper Brook Street, the butler reported that his mistress had just come in. He made, of course, no difficulty about admitting Lady Tressady's aunt, and Mrs.
This was Peter Porter, who, with his wife, completed the little group on the Tressadys' roomy, shady side porch. "It means my cousin who runs a fruit store," supplied Mrs. Porter a big-boned, superb blonde who was in a deep chair sewing buttons on Timothy Tressady's new rompers. "Even I can see that if I'm not a native of California." "Yes, that's it," Mrs. Tressady said absently.
He had always been rather proud to think of himself as an easygoing fellow with no particular depths. Other men were proud of a "storm period" of feasting and drinking deep made a pose of it. Tressady's pose had been the very opposite. Out of a kind of good taste, he had wished to take life lightly, with no great emotion. And marriage with Letty had seemed to satisfy this particular canon.
Maxwell did not offer his hand, yet as he opened the door for his visitor there was a quiet cordiality and kindness in his manner that made his renewed words of thanks sound like a strange music in Tressady's ears. When the minister was once more alone he walked back to the window, and stood looking down thoughtfully on the gay pageant of the river. She was right she was always right.
And Letty stood up, smiling and beckoning, while Tressady's tall thin figure made its way along the central passage. "Horrid House! What made you so late?" she said, as he sat down between her and Miss Tulloch. George Tressady looked at her with delight.
She'll see presently that we don't need both." When Miss Marshall, cool, silent, drab of hair and eye, arrived at the ranch, Belle was instantly suspicious. "What's she here for? Who's sick?" demanded Belle, coming into Mrs. Tressady's room and closing the door behind her, her eyes bright and hard. Molly explained diplomatically.
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