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"Win's not ill, I hope?" "No, he isn't." Roger rolled over to look at his visitor. The young face wore a pleasant smile and the gray eyes were friendly, but somehow Roger had a suspicion that Mr. Max wasn't the sort to approve outright truancy. "Win's all right," he added evasively. "He's studying or something." A queer little expression crossed Max's lips.
Win's nerve failed her for an instant in the hot forefront of her first battle, but she caught at Miss Kirk's remembered words: "You've got the look of those who win," and the floorwalker's advice: "Keep your head and you'll be all right." She mustn't be a coward. She mustn't fall at her first shot.
He noted the little shrinking, he was holding her so close. "Not in that way," and her reply was a soft whisper. "Thank Heaven! But I want to hear you say oh, my darling, I want the assurance that I shall be dear to you, that it is not all because " "I should stay for Uncle Win's sake. I think Miss Recompense finds a great many sources of happiness in a single life.
'May o' got faint er sumthin'. Ol' hoss brought 'im right here been here s' often with 'in'. He took the lantern and went out a moment. The door creaked upon its frosty hinges when he opened it. 'Thirty below zero, he whispered as he came in. 'Win's gone down a leetle bit, mebbe. Uncanny noises broke in upon the stillness of the old house.
Even from a distance, something about the younger man struck a chord of recollection in Win's usually reliable memory. He was almost certain that somewhere, at some time, they had met. Yet he could not think of any American acquaintance of that age who would be at all likely to be riding about the island of Jersey, his companion not only an Englishman, but obviously an ex-army officer.
There's nothing I want done that he wouldn't do." "He appears to have made you a very nice supper." Win's eyes rested on the table. "Nothing could be too good for you. If I've got you here well, sort of under false pretences there'll be no false pretences about anything else now I have got you. There's a little surprise in those flowers by your plate. I hope you'll like it."
"His mistress is called Connie and she lives at Laurel Manor. The rest ought to be easy. Let's go down to the shore. I want to explore that point of rocks." "But Win's asleep," said Edith hesitatingly. "Ought we to leave him?" "It's all right," said Frances. "He couldn't scramble on the rocks and it's splendid for him to sleep in this fine air. I'll leave a note telling him where to look for us."
They drove slowly about, Warren rehearsing stories of this and that place, and wishing there was more time so they might go over to Charlestown. "But Doris is to stay, and there will be time enough next summer. It is confusing to see so many places at once. And mother said we must be at Uncle Win's about four," declared Betty.
She went on without noticing the newcomer, except to flash across Win's face and figure a lightning, Judith glance which seemed to pitch a creature unknown and unwanted into the bottomless pit where all was vile. Her satin-smooth olive hands, with brilliantly polished coral nails, trembled as, gesticulating, she waved them over the stock which littered the four counters.
Latterly he had courted Uncle Win's society. There was a wide ledge in one of the southern windows, and Doris made a cushion to fit one end. He loved to lie here and bask in the sunshine. When there was a fire on the hearth he had another cushion in the corner. Sometimes he sauntered around and interviewed the books quite as if he was aware of their contents.
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