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Updated: June 13, 2025
The method was talent; the subject-matter was Genius; and Genius had evolved an Idea which no one had ever thought of before something brand new under the sun. It goes without saying that the Idea symbolized a great Truth. One department, the more impersonal, of Bennington's critical faculty, assured him that the Idea would take rank with the Ideas of Plato and Emerson.
Morrissy took the proffered weed, but he did not light it. He turned it round and round in his teeth and chewed it. Well, so long as the boss did not seem alarmed, the trouble could not be serious. Yet he was not over-confident of Bennington's lowering face. "Been a fine day," said Morrissy, at haphazard. "Yes, but there's going to be a storm to-night."
Something in the girl's appealing voice and perfect confidence of friendship, so unlike Jo Bennington's pouting demands and pretty coquetry, came as a revelation and a sense of loss to Thaine. For he loved Jo. He was sure of that, cock-sure. "It's this way," Leigh went on, "you know how Uncle Jim lost everything in the boom except his honor.
Bennington bowed coldly, but his immense relief flickered into his face in spite of himself. "What should we do first?" he asked formally. "Sit here and wait for the kids," responded Jim. "Who are the kids?" "Friends of mine trustworthy." Jim rearranged Bennington's coverings and lit a pipe. "Tell us about it," said he. "There isn't much to tell.
As the launch veered to make the turn, the waters astern were splashed by the steel pellets from the Bennington's machine-gun. Then the gunner of the revenue cutter began to raise his sights. Splinters flew from the Richard's stern. The coaming was riddled as the deadly hail moved toward the bow. The gunner on the Bennington ceased grinding as the launch disappeared behind the point.
"Hi!" he called, "how did you get up this?" He looked across the intervening space expectantly, and then, to his surprise, he observed that the girl was blushing furiously. "I I," stammered a small voice after a moment's hesitation, "I guess I shinned!" A light broke across Bennington's mind as to the origin of the two dark streaks on the gown, and he laughed.
For seven geological ages did he gaze upon cheap and horrible woodcuts of gentlemen in fashionable raiment trying to lean against conspicuously inadequate rustic gates; equally fashionable ladies, with flat chests, and rat's nest hair; and animals whose attitudes denoted playful sportiveness of disposition. Each of these pictures was explained in minute detail. Bennington's distress became apathy.
"I haven't told you the woman's name yet," said Bolles, leering. "The woman's name? What's that got to do with it?" "A whole lot. It was Katherine Challoner, the actress, Bennington's wife; that's who it was!" McQuade sat very still. So still, that he could hear the clock ticking in the parlor. Bennington's wife!
Then immediately he recollected that he had seen them in Bennington's hands, but he was positive that the gloves meant nothing to Bennington. He had picked them up just as he would have picked up a paper-cutter, a pencil, a match-box, if any of these had been within reach of his nervous fingers. Most men who are at times mentally embarrassed find relief in touching small inanimate objects.
"Going to take him to Sir George and Lady Bennington's city residence for the Easter Vac?" sneered Shorty. The answer came again quietly, "Yes, I am"; then, after a brief interval, "if he will pay me the compliment of coming."
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