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Updated: June 18, 2025
Carling's hand more heartily than their acquaintanceship quite sanctioned; but his grasp and his look of overflowing were immediately privileged; Mr. Carling, enjoying this anecdotal gentleman's conversation as he did, liked the warmth, and was flattered during the squeeze with a prospect of his wife and friends partaking of the fun from time to time.
She doesn't hear it often. 'A real service, Carling's voice deepened to the legal 'without prejudice, 'I am bound to say it a service to Society. 'Ah, poor wench! And the kind of reward she gets? 'We can hardly examine . . . mysterious dispensations . . . here we are to make the best we can of it. 'For the creature Society's indebted to? True.
She doesn't hear it often. 'A real service, Carling's voice deepened to the legal 'without prejudice, 'I am bound to say it a service to Society. 'Ah, poor wench! And the kind of reward she gets? 'We can hardly examine... mysterious dispensations... here we are to make the best we can of it. 'For the creature Society's indebted to? True.
Carling's health, and we are on our way home on about such an impulse as that which started us off he thinks now that he will be better off there." "I am afraid you have not derived much pleasure from your European experiences," said John. "Pleasure!" she exclaimed. "If ever you saw a young woman who was glad and thankful to turn her face toward home, I am that person.
I " he had reached the other side of the room now and with a quick, sudden movement jerked his hand to the dial of the safe that stood against the wall. But Jimmie Dale was quicker without shifting his position, his automatic, whipped from his pocket, held a disconcerting bead on Carling's forehead. "Please don't do that," said Jimmie Dale softly. "It's rather a good make, that safe.
Carling's regard, and that they would be glad to see me, but I think I might have been justified in hoping that you would go a little further, don't you think?" He looked at her as he asked the question, but she did not turn her head. Presently she said in a low voice, and slowly, as if weighing her words: "Will it be enough if I say that I shall be very sorry if you do not come?"
A minute passed another. Carling's pen travelled haltingly across the paper then, with a queer, low cry as he signed his name, he dropped the pen from his fingers, and, rising unsteadily from his chair, stumbled away from the desk toward a couch across the room. An instant Jimmie Dale watched the other, then he picked up the sheet of paper.
It turned up long afterward in the pocket of Master Jacky Carling's overcoat; so long afterward that John, so far as Mary was concerned, had disappeared altogether. The discovery of Jacky's dereliction explained to her, in part at least, why she had never seen him or heard from him after that last evening at Sixty-ninth Street.
"My sister is at present living in Cambridge, where Jack is at college," was the reply; "but poor Julius died two years ago." "Ah," said John, "I am grieved to hear of Mr. Carling's death. I liked him very much." "He liked you very much," she said, "and often spoke of you." There was another period of silence, so long, indeed, as to be somewhat embarrassing.
Carling's hand more heartily than their acquaintanceship quite sanctioned; but his grasp and his look of overflowing were immediately privileged; Mr. Carling, enjoying this anecdotal gentleman's conversation as he did, liked the warmth, and was flattered during the squeeze with a prospect of his wife and friends partaking of the fun from time to time.
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