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Updated: June 20, 2025
I approached the Everard Range from the south-westward, having found a good watering-place, which I called Verney's Wells, in that direction. There, we met a lot of natives who did not belong to the Everard Range tribes.
"Ah, then you agree with him? You think it would be dishonest?" Mrs. Peyton saw that she had slipped into self-betrayal. "My son and I have not spoken of the matter," she said evasively. She caught the flash of relief in Miss Verney's face. "You haven't spoken? Then how do you know how he feels about it?" "I only judge from well, perhaps from his not speaking." The girl drew a deep breath.
It was a flat, oblong packet, tied about with common twine, the seal cut out. The king twitched the string off, and with one rapid glance at the papers put them into Monsieur's hand. "Take them, St. Quentin; they are yours." The two dukes. Mademoiselle being given into Dame Verney's motherly hands, Gilles and I were ordered to repose ourselves on the skins in the saddler's shop.
A shuffling step sounded on the porch outside, and the girl hurried toward the door, a sudden light of daring in her eyes. Impulse had always ruled the Verneys, and Ruth was a Verney from the crown of her dark head to the tips of her small feet. Catching up Grandmother Verney's long cloak hanging over a chair, she softly left the house.
Kemp shook his fist angrily at Joe as he moved away to the door of the loft after having delivered his menacing warning. "My last words to you is, Stop it!" he said, as he turned to go down the stairs. Half an hour later Mr. Kemp entered the lounge of Verney's Hotel as though in quest of some one.
Peyton was shrewd enough to allow for the accidents of environment; what she wished to get at was the residuum of character beneath Miss Verney's shifting surface. "It looks charmingly," Mrs. Peyton repeated, giving a loosening touch to the chrysanthemums in a tall vase on her son's desk. Dick laughed, and glanced at his watch. "They won't be here for another quarter of an hour.
Such was Harry Verney's information as he strutted about the courtyard waiting for the squire's orders. 'But they've put their nose into a furze-bush, Muster Smith, they have. 'But are you sure they'll come to-night? 'That 'ere Paul says so. Wonder how he found out some of his underhand, colloguing, Methodist ways, I'll warrant.
Sitting in Verney's pavilion, he saw, walking on the sea-front, a fair-haired young lady of medium height, wearing a béret; a white Pomeranian dog was running behind her. And afterwards he met her in the public gardens and in the square several times a day.
Holymead were leaving the court after the inquest that Mr. Holymead came up and spoke to you? He shook hands with you and was on the point of shaking hands with his wife as if she were a lady he had met casually. Then, on the night of the murder, the taxi-cab driver at Hyde Park Corner drove him to his house at Princes Gate, but was ordered to drive back and take him to Verney's Hotel.
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