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Updated: May 31, 2025
Coulson helped the young lady into the buggy and away they rattled up the hill. And Elizabeth, thrilled with joy over her escape, little realized that in saving herself she had done a good deed that day for two people very dear to herself a deed the results of which lasted through a lifetime. It all turned out so beautifully.
He wouldn't play bridge, didn't care about chess, hadn't even a chair on the deck, and never came in to meals." Penelope nodded her head thoughtfully. "You are destroying all my illusions, Mr. Coulson," she said. "Do you know that I was building up quite a romance about poor Mr. Fynes' life?
'I wish yo' could find out what she has again' me, Philip, said Coulson, about a fortnight after he had made the proposal.
Perhaps that was because the young Quaker, William Coulson, was crushing one between his finger and thumb, while waiting to set down Alice's next words. For the old woman, who looked as if many years of life remained in her yet, was solemnly dictating her last will and testament. It had been on her mind for many months; for she had something to leave beyond the mere furniture of the house.
"They are in my suitcase," Coulson answered, "and according to the way things are going, I shan't be over sorry to get rid of them. Will you take them with you?" "Why, sure!" Vanderpole answered. "That's what I'm here for." "You had better wait right here, then," Coulson said, "I'll fetch them."
There are a few pals of mine generally lunch in the cafe there, and they mayn't all have cleared out if we look alive." They started a moment or two later. Mr. Coulson leaned forward and, folding his arms upon the apron of the cab, looked about him with interest.
They were out in the Channel now, and the boat was pitching heavily. Mr. James B. Coulson, however, knew nothing of it. He was sleeping like one who wakes only for the Judgment Day. Over his coat and waistcoat the other man's fingers travelled with curious dexterity. The oilskin case in which Mr. Coulson was in the habit of keeping his private correspondence was reached in a very few minutes.
'What art thee doing there? asked Alice, suddenly alive to his proceedings. Without a word he showed her his handiwork. 'It's a vanity, said she, 'and 't may make t' will not stand. Folk may think I were na in my right mind, if they see such fly-legs and cob-webs a-top. Write, "This is my doing, William Coulson, and none of Alice Rose's, she being in her sound mind."
As the door of communication shut the three in, Coulson felt himself a little aggrieved. A minute ago Philip and he were on a level of ignorance, from which the former was evidently going to be raised. But he soon returned to his usual state of acquiescence in things as they were, which was partly constitutional, and partly the result of his Quaker training.
"Neither in the case of Mr. Hamilton Fynes or in the case of Mr. Richard Vanderpole?" Sir Edward asked. Mr. Coulson shook his head. "Quite out of my line," he declared. "Notwithstanding the fact," Sir Edward reminded him quietly, "that you were probably the last person to see Vanderpole alive? He came to the Savoy to call upon you before he got into the taxicab where he was murdered.
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