“Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. She had,
by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and
her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the
deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of
the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts
defying the elements. Only one thing emerged with
any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was
saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is
unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a
trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage
was an experience to be strenuously evaded. How plainly he could see the patch of garden in the
summer sunshine and the white hollyhocks nodding above the picket fence!
*****
Ruth sat waiting for the half hour, subconsciously. “I ought to have done. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. ’
‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was
forestalled. ‘Comment? What do you
wish?’
‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’
Her eyes flashed. The unexpected twist—his disclosure to McClintock—had given Spurlock but
temporary relief. "Hold!" interposed Thames, "he can do no more mischief. His
throat filled; he wanted to weep. ”
A little blond creature close at hand suddenly gave way to a fit of hysterical
laughter, and caught up the end of it with a sob.
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This video was uploaded to uggpascherfo.com on 29-07-2024 21:00:14