She stared at him. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. "You show more consideration to the feelings of a hempen widow, than there is any need to show. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. "But I give no information gratis!" "Speak, then," said Rowland, placing money in his hand. ” She made her glasses glint. My thanks, by the by. " Mr. " "It may be; but if it shortens the distance and lightens the journey, I care not," retorted the widow, who seemed by this reproach to be roused into sudden eloquence.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 04:54:40