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The utmost I can hope for is to sit alone by the fireside, and work antimacassars in crewels." "But, dear mother, you did not marry Captain Winstanley in order to lead such a life as that? You might as well be in a béguinage." Vain were Vixen's efforts to console and cheer.

But this would not in the least dim the red-haired vixen's triumph, which was the issue at stake. From that moment he began really to hate Trudy.

He had packed his valises, and he took an affectionate farewell of the captain, Flint, and Sampson, as well as the ship's company in a more general way, though he said he expected to be back again in a few weeks. The Vixen's boat was waiting for him, and he embarked in it with Paul Vapoor. In a few minutes he ascended to the deck of the steamer, and the side was manned at his appearance.

She stamped her foot with the words, gazing down at him with blazing eyes. The Colonel stiffened slightly, but he kept his temper. "If I have done you an injustice, I apologize," he said. "You may go." And Dinah went like a whirlwind, banging the door behind her. "Well, really!" protested Lady Grace in genuine displeasure. Her husband smiled somewhat grimly. "A vixen's daughter, my dear!

Tears were indeed running from the poor old eyes, as the pointer's head lay in Vixen's lap; as if memory, kindled by her image, brought back the past too keenly for that honest canine heart. "It is very mournful," said Mrs. Tempest. "Pauline, let us have a cup of tea." She sank into an arm-chair opposite the fire. Not the squire's old carved oak-chair, with its tawny leather cushions.

Those deep gray eyes of his looked black under their black lashes. His black hair was cut close to his well-shaped head. An incipient moustache shaded his upper lip, and gave manhood to the strong, firm mouth. A manly face altogether, Roderick's, and handsome withal. Vixen's short life had shown her none handsomer.

Tempest had set her heart upon Vixen's going to the ball; or, in other words, she had set her heart upon going herself. On her way through Paris, in September, she had gone to Worth's out of curiosity, just to see what the great man's salons were like and there she had been tempted into the purchase of an artistic arrangement in black silk and jet, velvet and passementerie.

Even that long sleep of the morning had not cured Vixen's weariness. There were long arrears of slumber yet to be made up. Her eyelids drooped, then closed altogether, the ocean lullaby took a still softer sound, the distant voices of the tourists grew infinitely soothing, and Vixen sank quietly to sleep, her head leaning on her folded arms, the gentle west wind faintly stirring her loose hair.

My own disappointment, if only for my friend's sake, was also keen; but, on the evening following those hours of fruitless watching, I discovered the vixen's lair in the furze-brake, and learned why she resorted thither with her cubs, before the badger family had awakened from their day-dreams, or the pale glow-worm's rays had lit up the dew-besprinkled spider-webs.

Reckless through hunger and maddened by the scent of blood, she attacked him savagely, bullied him out of the possession of the dead fowl, and bore her prize away in triumph to her den. The fox endured his ill-treatment with the submission of a Stoic he happened to be the pugnacious vixen's mate, and the sire of her family.