Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 29, 2025
Anyone watching them would find the smiles of conventionality on their lips. To all outward seeming, they were indulging in a friendly gossip. "Of course, you want money," he said. "That is the be-all and end-all of your existence. Very well. Write a letter to Miss Wynton apologizing for your conduct, take yourself away from here at three o'clock, and from St.
Moritz is practicable, as this morning's mail was only forty minutes behind time." Spencer ordered a carriage, wrote a telegram, and gave it to the driver, with orders to forward it from St. Moritz if possible. And this was the text: "MACKENZIE, 'FIREFLY' OFFICE, FLEET-ST., LONDON. Wire Miss Wynton positive instructions to return to England immediately. Say she is wanted at office.
But he had quick eyes, and he saw that a letter addressed to Miss Helen Wynton, in the flamboyant envelope of "The Firefly," bore the same script. Mackenzie had risen to the occasion. He even indulged in a classical joke. "There is something in the name of Helen that attracts," he said.
Then he laughed, and ordered another liqueur, and drank a toast to to-morrow, when all things come to pass for the man who knows how to contrive to-day. In the early morning, at Basle, he awoke, and was somewhat angry with himself when he found that his thoughts still dwelt on Helen Wynton.
"Er Miss er Wynton, I believe?" said a drawling voice.
Then he went out, and looked again at Helen from the doorway; but she was wholly unaware of his presence. Thus it came about, quite simply and naturally, that Mark Bower met Miss Helen Wynton on the platform of Victoria Station on Thursday morning, and learned that, like himself, she was a passenger by the Engadine Express.
Well, I do play tennis, or rather, I used to play fairly well some years ago " "By gad! just what I thought. Go slow in your practice games, Miss Wynton, an' you'll have a rippin' handicap." "Would that be quite honest?" said Helen, lifting her steadfast brown eyes to meet his somewhat too free scrutiny. "Honest? Rather!
"I am sorry," she said, with a friendly smile that might have disarmed prejudice, "but in the hurry of my departure from London I packed my cards in my registered baggage. My name is Helen Wynton." The eyeglasses went up once more. "Do you spell it with an I? Are you one of the Gloucestershire Wintons?" "No. I live in town; but my home is in Norfolk."
"Helen and Millicent rise and move to center of stage; enter the conventional villain." Miss Jaques was not mistaken when she said that her acquaintance would surely see her. She and Helen Wynton had not advanced a yard from their corner before the newcomer discovered them. He hastened to meet them, with the aspect of one equally surprised and delighted.
"You know I am not an ardent admirer of Bower," said the cleric; "but I must admit that it was very manly of him to make that outspoken statement about Miss Wynton." "What statement?" asked Spencer. "Ah, I had forgotten. You were not present, of course. He made the other woman's hysterical outburst supremely ridiculous by saying, in effect, that he meant to marry Miss Wynton." "He said that, eh?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking