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Updated: June 16, 2025
Then she told Bunny he must not get on Mart's trapeze again, as he was too little for that sort of play. "Even if there's a lot of hay under it can't I get on?" asked Bunny. "No, not even if there's a lot of hay under it," answered Mrs. Brown. So that ended Bunny's hopes of becoming a trapeze performer in the show. But Mart still kept on practicing, and soon he could do a number of good tricks.
Whatever happened now, Mart's will had been secured. At her command they lifted the table on which her husband lay, and the wife walked beside it, unheeding the throngs of silent men walling her path.
Before the first evening of his visit closed he sought opportunity to tell her, in hypocritic sadness, that Mart was a doomed man, and that she would soon be free of him. Bertha was disturbed by his gaze and repelled by his touch, but tried to like him on Mart's account.
Mart looked at his wife. "I dunno." Munn's glance came to the wife. "Yes." "How long ago did he come in?" "About an hour ago." Her voice was flat and lifeless. "And where had he been?" Munn's tone was gentle but insistent. Her terrified glance sought Mart's face. "He'd been on the beach!" she said in a defiant tone. Mart continued to look at her, but there was no expression in his face.
Then, from one of the foremost rider's mounts, came the shrill neigh of a horse in pain, and the thudding of the animal's hoofs as it shied violently, for it had collided with the barbed wire fence. This was Mart's first intimation that there was a fence, but he had no time to think that he had been matched in cleverness by Donald Spellman, for things began to happen.
"Ten minutes or so," she said. "Just so," agreed Munn. "Brenner, when did you come in?" A trace of Mart's sullenness rose in his face. "I told you that once," he said. "I mean how long after Tobey?" "I dunno," said Mart. "How long, Mrs. Brenner?" She hesitated again. She scented a trap. "Oh, 'bout ten to fifteen minutes, I guess," she said.
He linked his arm affectionately in Robin's. Mart's! Robin's brain snatched at the word. Mart's! most respectable of "family hotels," wedged in between two quiet streets off Piccadilly with an entrance from both. If ever a man wanted to dodge a sleuth, especially a grimy tatterdemalion like the one sidling up Pall Mall behind them ...
Mart looked at his wife. "I dunno." Munn's glance came to the wife. "Yes." "How long ago did he come in?" "About an hour ago." Her voice was flat and lifeless. "And where had he been?" Munn's tone was gentle but insistent. Her terrified glance sought Mart's face. "He'd been on the beach!" she said in a defiant tone. Mart continued to look at her, but there was no expression in his face.
Mebbe he'll be a lawyer or president some day, ain't, Ma?" "Ach, Martin, I don't think that would be so much. I'd rather have my children just plain, common people like we are. Mart's gone up to Reists' this evening." "So? To see Amanda, I guess." "Her or that boarder from Lancaster." "That ruffly girl we saw this morning?" "Yes." "Ach, don't you worry, Ma.
"Little Mrs. Haney" became at once the subject of endless comment mostly unfavorable; for Mart's saloon-made reputation was well-known, and the current notion of a woman who would marry him was not high.
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