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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Foe-Farrell"


Constantia opened her fan and snapped it. "Impossible?" said she.
"Well, I don't know. . . . Dr. Foe introduced him, later on . . .
and what do you think Mamma said? She said that she had supposed
them at first sight to be relatives. There was a trick about the
eyes and the corner of the brow. . . . You are quite sure," she added
irrelevantly, "that Dr.--that your friend--would be above--?"
"I swear to you, Con," I assured her. "I know Jack Foe inside and
out."
She had opened her fan again very deliberately; and as deliberately
she closed it.
"No man ever knew that of a man," she said; "nor no woman either.
. . . You're a rotter, Roddy--but you're rather a dear."

NIGHT THE THIRTEENTH.

ESCAPE.
Somewhere in the bustle of landing and scrimmage past the Customs,
Miss Denistoun lost sight of the two travellers; and with that, for a
time, she goes out of the story.
You may almost put it that for a time they do the same. At all
events for the next few weeks the record keeps a very slight hold on
them and their doings. Jack knew, you see, that--though not a
disapproving sort, as a rule, and in those days (though you children
will hardly believe it) inclined to like my friends the better for
doing what they jolly well pleased--I barred this vendetta-game of
his, and would have called him off if I could.


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