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Dell, Ethel M. (Ethel May), 1881-1939

"The Bars of Iron"

The attraction was too great for that.
Unless indeed--he looked across at the bent black head in sudden
doubt--was it possible that the boy had met with a check in the least
likely direction of all? Could it be that the woman's plans did not
include him after all?
No! No! That was out of the question. He knew women. A hard laugh rose to
his lips. If she had put a check upon Piers' advances it was not with the
ultimate purpose of stopping him. She knew what she was about too well
for that, confound her!
He stared at Piers who had wheeled suddenly from the fire at the sound of
the laugh. "Well?" he said irritably. "Well? What's the matter now?"
The eyes that countered his were hard, with just a hint of defiance. "You
laughed, sir," said Piers curtly.
"Well, what of it?" threw back Sir Beverley. "You're deuced suspicious. I
wasn't laughing at you."
"I know that," said Piers. He spoke deliberately, as one choosing his
words. His face was stern. "I don't want to know the joke if it's
private. But I should like to know how long you want to be away."
"How long? How the devil can I tell?" growled Sir Beverley. "Till I've
had enough of it, I suppose."
"Does it depend on that only?" said Piers.
Sir Beverley pushed back his chair with fierce impatience. "Oh, leave me
alone, boy, do! I'll let you know when it's time to come home again.


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