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Updated: June 22, 2025
Grasping desperately at his dignity, he swallowed an abject apology and retreated into the office. Miss Whitmore followed him a few steps, thought better of it, and paced the platform self-pityingly for ten minutes, at the end of which the Flying U rig whirled up in a cloud of dust, and the agent hurried out to help with the two trunks, and the mandolin and guitar in their canvas cases.
They placed themselves across Te Kooti's path; but after a long day's skirmishing were scattered in retreat, losing their baggage, ammunition, and horses. Colonel Whitmore, picking them up next day, joined them to his force and dragged them off after him in pursuit of the victors. It was winter, and the weather and country both of the roughest.
"Oh, by the way," interposed the doctor airily, "it has occurred to me that the very object of my visit to-day is right along the lines of what you ask. I want Miss Margaret to go driving with me. I have a call to make out Washington Heights way." "Oh, but " began Margaret, and paused at a gesture from her mother. "There aren't any 'buts' about it," declared Mrs. Whitmore. "Meg shall go."
It began to look, then, as though J. G. Whitmore was cunningly besting the situation, and was going to hold out indefinitely against the encroachments of civilization upon the old order of things on the range.
There was a short scuffle in the darkness, then a shot rang out. I heard Mr. Whitmore groan. "Instantly I switched on the light. Mr. Whitmore was leaning against a table, one hand pressed against his abdomen. Collins was cowering against the opposite wall. "The pistol was in Ward's hand." Beard paused, overcome by the crushing pain of the memories that crowded on his brain.
If they didn't know the contents of Whitmore's will, then they had every reason in the world for preventing the merchant's death. Ward was praying for his return, so he might plead with him to help him out of his financial scrape. Mrs. Collins's love for Whitmore was intensely genuine, and moreover, it was pure." Britz paused, noting the bewildered expression on the faces of Manning and Greig.
"Doctor," she said, "that picture on the wall there at the foot of the bed it doesn't hang quite straight." "Mrs. Whitmore!" breathed the man incredulously, half rising from his chair. "Hush! Not yet!" The woman's insistent hand had pulled him back. "Why am I here? Where is this place?" There was no answer. "Doctor, you must tell me. I must know." Again the man hesitated.
To Angela he was not drawn by any of the things which drew him to Miriam Finch and Norma Whitmore, nor was there the wonderful art of Christina Channing. Still he was going. His interest in Norma Whitmore had increased greatly as the winter passed. In this woman he had found an intellect as broadening and refining as any he had encountered.
Oh, but it can't be the gentleman I mean, sir! The one I mean has a slow way of speaking, and the hair seems gone on each side of his forehead " "That's Whitmore, to a T. So you know him? Well, you'll meet him at Lydia's, I shouldn't wonder. He's there most nights." "If you please, sir, will you set me down? I can shift for myself somehow indeed I can! I promised that is, I mean, Mr.
"Yes," said I with sudden courage, "he was there to steal. And you were waiting below, to share profits." He fell back a pace, still eyeing me. "I'll have to find another way with you than with Whitmore that's evident," he said with a short laugh, and was gone. Two days later our breaching batteries opened on the town.
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