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Isn't this the dearest place imaginable?" and with charming naïveté she looked about the tiny amphitheatre-like circle, admiring the projecting stones which formed natural seats, and the broad shelving of slippery rock which led up to it. "Yes, it is," said Sam with considerable thoughtfulness, and once more inspected Miss Westlake critically.
But there was nothing in his ingenuous, weather-tanned face to warrant a suspicion that he was making an allusion nothing. Beyond a doubt, thought Octavia, he had forgotten. "Mr. Westlake likes his fun," said Mrs. Maclntyre, as she conducted Octavia to her rooms. "But," she added, loyally, "people around here usually pay attention to what he says when he talks in earnest.
He would not hesitate to say that the revolutionism preached in the newspaper called the 'Tocsin' was dangerous, was immoral. And so on. Richard was not at his best this evening. You might have seen Mrs. Westlake abandon her attentive position, and lean back rather wearily; you might have seen a covert smile on a few of the more intelligent faces.
Out of the window, as he looked up, he saw Miss Westlake and Miss Hastings crossing the lawn, and he suddenly realized that he was here to wear himself out with rest, so he hurried in the direction the girls had taken; but when he arrived at the tennis court he found a set already in progress. Both Miss Westlake and Miss Hastings barely nodded at Mr.
"I'll let you know in some way or other, even if I don't make any direct announcement," laughed Sam, and Princeman walked away with Mr. Westlake, very much to Billy's consternation. He was alone with this dull Turner person once more. What should they talk about? Sam solved that problem for him at once. "What's the swiftest conveyance these people keep?" he asked briskly.
The door opened, and a lady half entered the room. 'Oh, I thought you were alone, she remarked to Mr. Westlake. 'Forgive me! 'Come in! Here's our friend Mutimer. You know Mrs. Westlake? A few words had passed between this lady and Richard in the lecture-room a few weeks before.
"Just the chap I wanted to see, Sam," said Mr. Westlake heartily. "I'm trying to get up a pin-hook fishing contest, for three-inch sunfish." "Happy thought," returned Sam, laughing. "Count me in." "It's the governor's own idea, too," said Billy with vast enthusiasm. "Bully sport, it ought to be. Only trouble is, Princeman has some mysterious errand or other, and can't join us."
Westlake and his henchmen, and prompted the speakers with words and phrases of a rich vernacular. If anything, Comrade Roodhouse fell a little short of what was expected of him. His friends had come together prepared for gory language, but the murderous instigations of Clerkenwell Green were not repeated with the same crudity.
Westlake whispered to her, "Yes, Lym is a very well-informed man, but he's modest about it," she felt uninformed and immodest, and scolded at herself that she had missed the human potentialities in this vast Gopher Prairie. When Dr. Westlake quoted the "Paradiso," "Don Quixote," "Wilhelm Meister," and the Koran, she reflected that no one she knew, not even her father, had read all four.
'Brittle is foredoomed, said Diana, unruffled. She deserved compliments, and would have had them if she had not wounded the most jealous and petulant of her courtiers. 'Then the Turk is a sapient custodian! said Westlake, vexed with her flush at the entrance of the Scot. Diana sedately took his challenge. 'We, Mr. Westlake, have the philosophy of ownership. Mr.
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