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Moreover the wrist moved readily and the fingers were as flexible as before. Consoled by that, comforted already, he shuffled into the kitchen and consumed the cold veal. Now, in the crashing car, Cassy's thoughts went forward and back. Her father's question, that had succeeded in being both pointed and pointless, returned. She smiled at it.
There was neither pleasure nor exultation in Cassy's eyes, only a despairing firmness. "Come," she said, reaching her hand to Emmeline. The two fugitives glided noiselessly from the house, and flitted, through the gathering shadows of evening, along by the quarters. The crescent moon, set like a silver signet in the western sky, delayed a little the approach of night.
Legree, though he talked so stoutly to Cassy, still sallied forth from the house with a degree of misgiving which was not common with him. His dreams of the past night, mingled with Cassy's prudential suggestions, considerably affected his mind.
He turned, it was Cassy's; but the cold soft touch recalled his dream of the night before, and, flashing through the chambers of his brain, came all the fearful images of the night-watches, with a portion of the horror that accompanied them. "Will you be a fool?" said Cassy, in French. "Let him go! Let me alone to get him fit to be in the field again. Isn't it just as I told you?"
Apart from down-stage and the centre of it, apart, too, from the flys and the dressing-rooms, Cassy's imagination had not as yet conceived anything more beckoning than a box at the opera, even though, as on this occasion, the opera happened to be a concert. "Why, yes. Only " Pausing, she looked about. The imperial lady had gone. "Only what?" Paliser very needlessly asked for he knew.
It was what he had been driving at. Accustomed to easy successes, Cassy's atmosphere, with its flavour of standoffishness and indifference, appealed to this man, who had supped on the facile and who wanted the difficult. Cassy, he could have sworn, would supply it and, if he had, he would have sworn very truly. Meanwhile the muskrat had gone. Dishes less false but equally fair had followed.
"Cassy's got as much right here as any of us, Abel, and she's coming to say it, I guess." The voice which spoke was unlike a Western voice. It was deep and full and slow, with an organ-like quality. It was in good keeping with the tall, spare body and large, fine rugged face of the woman to whom it belonged.
Cassy's eyelids had been a trifle tremulous, in her under-lip there had been also a little uncertainty. But at the vistas which the novelist dangled at her, she succeeded in looking, as she could look, immeasurably remote. "That sort of thing is chorus-girl!" Blankly Jones stared. "What sort of thing?" "Why, you want me to bring an action. I will do nothing of the kind.
What the wolf was to Cassy's father, Lennox was to her. At dinner, Peter Verelst's advice to do nothing had seemed strategic. At the Splendor, it had seemed stupid. The spectacle of that girl hobnobbing with Lennox had interested her enormously.
She said: 'Why, Monty, I do believe you'd like to marry her." Cassy's mouth twitched as she munched it. "She presumed to say that! She's an insolent beast." "He shut her up, I can tell you. He said if he got on his knees, you wouldn't dust your feet on him." "That jackanapes! I should say not!" "You might say worse. Take the Metro. You're spat on if you're down and spat at if you're up.
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