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After all, what could meet such loving loyalty? When at last he spoke, Gilder's voice was subdued, a little husky. "Now, that you know?" he questioned. There was no faltering in the answer. "Now, that I know," Dick said distinctly. Then abruptly, the young man spoke with the energy of perfect faith in the woman. "Don't you see, father?
I don't think I have described Monny Gilder's aunt, according to my conception of her, though I may have hinted at Biddy's. Biddy having a habit of focussing her sense of humour on any female she doesn't wholly love, may not do Mrs. East justice.
Alexander Smith's hero protests against being "dungeoned in poverty." One of Richard Gilder's poets warns the public, You need not weep for and sigh for and saint me After you've starved me and driven me dead. Friends, do you hear? Through the thin veneer of the fictitious poet in Joaquin Miller's Ina, the author himself appears, raving, A poet! a poet forsooth! Fool! hungry fool!
Demarest paid no attention to the other's invitation to a seat, but the courtesy was perfunctory on Gilder's part, and he hardly perceived the perturbation of his caller, for he was occupied in selecting and lighting a cigar with the care of a connoisseur. Finally, he spoke again, and now there was an infinite contentment in the rich voice. "Three years three years!
We had a two-berthed compartment together, and talked most of the night, in low voices; of the mountain; of the legends concerning it, and the papers of the dead Egyptologist Ferlini, which indirectly had brought Fenton into Monny Gilder's life, and given Brigit back to me. There was the out-of-doors breakfast party, too, on the terrace at Shepheard's.
The smug contentment abode still on Gilder's face as he puffed in leisurely ease on his cigar and uttered a trite condolence. "Very sad! quite so! Very sad case, I call it." Demarest went on speaking, with a show of feeling: "Most unusual case, in my estimation. You see, the girl keeps on declaring her innocence. That, of course, is common enough in a way. But here, it's different.
"It's their tent I'm thinking of," I said, though I'd never talked of Brigit O'Brien's affairs to Fenton. "If some one had planned to rob them, not knowing of the change we made at the last minute " "All our Arabs did know " "I'm not talking of them. We've been here two days. Any one could have spied on us enough to find out which tent was Mrs. Jones' and Miss Gilder's."
Poor Peter Gilder's fears for his millionaire girl would be child's play to what might happen, before such a mistake was found out if once it was made. That's just one of the hundred reasons why it would be as safe for Monny Gilder to travel with a bomb in her dressing-bag as to have me in her train of dependants.
One of these pictures a rustic dance was the subject he sent to a gilder's to be framed. He had consecrated three dollars to this purpose, and went one day to see how his commission had been executed. He found the picture framer, who was also a picture dealer, in his shirt sleeves, talking with a middle-aged gentleman, who was praising his performance.
It was just a few moments before Mary Turner received the note from the hands of the sleepy maid that one of the leaves of the octagonal window in the library of Richard Gilder's town house swung open, under the persuasive influence of a thin rod of steel, cunningly used, and Joe Garson stepped confidently into the dark room.
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