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He got up and walked to the window, standing with his back to her. She wondered if she had said too much; his back looked uncompromising. She did not realize that she could never say too much in the defense of Claire. Then he said, without looking round: "We shall have to manage somehow." It occurred to Miss Marley, with a wave of reassurance, that this was probably Winn's usual way of managing.
It looks as though he had the same happy faculty for getting into scrapes that distinguished my young friend Glen Eddy. Somehow I have a fellow-feeling for such boys. It is strange, too, for I can't remember ever getting into any scrapes myself. We must put a stop to it, though, in Winn's case.
"We keep the corner we are in quiet." "Yes," said Dr. Gurnet sympathetically, "I know; but I think it would be better if you had to think about it. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to keep things quiet if they were more thoroughly exposed to thought." Winn's attention wandered to the tiger skins. "Did you bag those fellows yourself?" he asked. Dr. Gurnet smilingly agreed.
Her eyes met Winn's with a shrewdness that she promptly veiled. He wasn't looking as if he wanted her to be shrewd. It struck her that she was seeing Winn as he must have looked when he was about twenty. She wondered if this was only because he had won the match. His eyes were very open and they were off their guard.
"Nobody can answer you when you keep roaring like a deuced megaphone," said Charles wearily. "Let's hear what the chap's got to say for himself, Mater." Lady Staines read Winn's letter out loud in a dry voice without expression; it might have been an account of a new lawn mower which she held beneath it.
So you see, don't you, that if either of us was wicked it was me? Only I didn't feel wicked; I really felt awfully good. I don't see how you're to tell what's right if God doesn't let you know and people talk nonsense." "It's not," agreed Miss Marley, dryly, "particularly easy to know." "And his wife doesn't care for him," Claire went on. "Fancy Winn's wife not caring for him! Poor woman!"
She had never been in Winn's room before, and as she sat down to wait for him her eyes took in its neat impressive bareness. It was a narrow hotel room, a bed in one corner, a chest of drawers, washstand, and wardrobe opposite. By the balcony window were a small table and an armchair. A cane chair stood at the foot of the bed. Nothing was lying about.
Sister Winn's gals ain't married, an' they've always boarded, an' worked in the shop on trimmin's. Isabella' s well off; she had some means from her father's sister. I thought it all over by night an' day, an' I recalled that our folks kept Sister Wayland's folks all one winter, when he'd failed up and got into trouble.
"Own up!" he said, laying his rough hand very gently on her shoulder. "Own up, old lady!" But has anybody ever owned up when they were being spiteful? Estelle didn't. She looked at Winn's hand till he withdrew it, and then she remarked that she was feeling faint from want of food.
Brackett and Solon have gone too, but they'll all be back directly, and then you can tell them that you only borrowed Winn's raft, and where you have left it. Oh, I am so glad it was you that found Don Blossom!" "Who is Mr. Brackett?" inquired the stranger, glancing uneasily out of the window. "Mr. Brackett?
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