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"That'll do, my dear fellow," softly interposed the stranger, with a gentle lift of the elbow in Culver's direction. "Leave Miss St. Orme to find out the rest for herself! I hope she is not easily alarmed." "Not at all, I assure you," said Hilary. "Never mind Dick! No one does. Come inside!" She led the way with light feet.
It was proof positive of Dumont's profound indifference to money that he listened without any emotion either of anger or of regret to the first part of Culver's tale, the survey of the wreck what had been forty millions now reduced to a dubious six.
The roses on the garden balustrade of Dick Culver's bungalow nodded as though welcoming a friend. She turned over and struck out vigorously, swimming up-stream. It was June, and the whole world was awake and singing. "It's better than the entire London season put together," she murmured to herself, as she presently came drifting back. A whiff of tobacco-smoke interrupted her soliloquy.
"I don't want you to go into Culver's office. He's a scoundrel." Again Dorothy smiled faintly. Norman colored. "I know he stands well as well as I do. But I can't trust you with him. That sounds ridiculous but it's true." "I think I can trust myself," she said quietly. Her grave regard fixed his. "Don't you?" she asked. His eyes lowered. "Yes," he replied. "But why shouldn't you come back with us?
As Quincy walked up Walnut Street, he saw a bright light in Dr. Culver's window. He rang the bell, and the doctor himself came to the door. "Is that you, Quincy? Come in." "Paul, how are you?" "Fine as silk. Business is good, but I'm doing my best to keep the undertakers out of a job. Have you read the evening papers?" "I seldom do. I prefer to wait until morning."
He said he had seen the Indian coming from Culver's office, with blood upon his hands. The Indian had gone straight westward from the town, to elude pursuit in the mountains. The fact that Van had been at Queenie's side at her death became town property at once. It came in all promptness to Beth. With a feeling of sickness pervading all her being, she was glad to have Bostwick take her home.
I need the medicine I've had this morning, and Culver's bringing me another dose. If I'm not better when he leaves, I agree to try your prescription of fret and fume." "You are risking your life." Dumont smiled. "Possibly. But I'm risking it for what's more than life to me, my dear Sackett." "You'll excite yourself. You'll " "On the contrary, I shall calm myself.
I'll see that you get a much better position than Culver's giving you." Over her face crept one of those mysterious transformations that made her so bafflingly fascinating to him. Behind that worldly-wise, satirical mask was she mocking at him? All she said was: "I couldn't work there. I've settled it with Mr. Tetlow. I go to work to-morrow." "To-morrow!" he cried, starting up.
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