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Updated: June 3, 2025
Can't make omelettes without breaking eggs though, as the French say. Well now, Stanninghame, I've had my eye on you ever since you came up here. I'm pretty good at reading people, and I read you. 'That's the man for me, I said to myself. 'He's come to the end of his tether. He's just at that stage of life when it's kill or cure, and he means kill or cure."
Two or three other acquaintances of his had gone there and had made very much more than a good thing of it. Why should not he? Laurence Stanninghame was just touching middle age.
The main body of the slave-hunters had emerged from the scrub, and had quietly surrounded the village. Laurence was satisfied. He had gained time so far, and with it his object. "What astonishing freak is this, Stanninghame?" said Hazon, who, having taken in the situation at a glance, was promptly at his colleague's side, displaying, too, the piece of pencilled board.
But taking him, or leaving him, rests with you entirely." "Leave it that way, then. I'll think it over and see if it pans out any," said Hazon, leisurely lighting a fresh pipe. "But, Stanninghame, what's this?" he added, with a sudden, keen glance out of his piercing eyes. "You are letting yourself go with regard to this matter showing feeling. That won't do, you know.
As the preparations progressed, and the time for the start drew near, it seemed to Laurence Stanninghame that more and more was the old life a mere dream, a dream of the past.
"Tradition hath it that Lilith was Adam's first wife. That makes it the oldest she-name on record, doesn't it?" "Of course. What a rum chap you are, Stanninghame! Now, I wonder how many fellows could have told one that?" "Well, I am a 'know-a-little-of-everything, they tell me," said Laurence, without a shade of self-complacency. "But, I say, what do these two want bothering around?
"Bless my soul, Stanninghame, is that you?" cried Rankin, running right into Laurence one morning just outside the new Exchange. "And Holmes too? Why, you're looking uncommonly well, both of you. What have you done with the pirate, eh?"
Laurence Stanninghame had found this place by a mere chance. He might have purchased it for a third of its value, but he preferred not. Possibly he distrusted the wandering blood within him, possibly he did not lose sight of the fact that where he had found the great diamonds he had certainly left behind many more, to be found or not at some future time.
Up went scrip, and Laurence Stanninghame, having judiciously invested his little all, cleared about three hundred pounds in as many days. Things began to look rosy. By this time, too, Laurence got sick of hanging around the Exchange and talking scrip.
Further, she had avoided that vulgar commonplace, instinctive to the crude and unthinking mind, of whatever sex, of importing a personal application into an abstract discussion. This, too, argued tact and mental refinement, both qualities of rarer distribution among her sex than is commonly supposed qualities, however, which Laurence Stanninghame was peculiarly able to appreciate.
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