“I’ve had such a fright!” he said. “Georgie! is that you?”


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“Ah! la la,” he observed, returning. “Histoire de femmes! The good husband, he hit the nail on the head—tout de même, he was not tactful! Assuredly not.”

"Wait until the news of this outrage is spread abroad!"



noises of the Indian night did not alarm her--a rustle in the undergrowth, the sudden flapping of a flying fox, the flitter of a bat, the distant squealing of some helpless little creature in the agonies of capture by a foe. She went on, as in a dream, until she reached the gateless entrance of the compound, where she paused, standing in the loose white dust that still retained the heat of the day. An ekka passed, with jingling bells, along the road outside, then a creaking cart close-packed with pilgrims on their journey to some sacred shrine, chanting sleepily a song of prayer and praise. Silent-footed travellers, enshrouded in their cotton sheets, slipped by and disappeared like wraiths.

"Because I'm eighty-five. Eighty-five's a bore, my dear young lady. You don't believe me, eh? Women never believe a man unless he lies to 'em," remarked the marquis with a wheeze which was meant for a sigh. "I often tell my nephew John—the one you're walking with—he won't have to

and children have always loved me,” he summed up, a tear on his lashes. “But I’ve been a curse to you and Leila, and I know it, Hayley. That’s my only merit, I suppose—that I do know it! Well, here’s to turning over a new leaf ...” and so forth.

[pg 59]

1.Presently they found themselves in the camp of the New Zealanders. The khaki-colored tents had been erected here and there in places that seemed to afford the highest degree of safety. Doubtless there were also cavities in the rocks into which the men retreated like conies whenever there was danger of the camp being under shell fire from some distant Turkish redoubt or trenches.

2.After the race Maria was taken by Uncle Berry to Waynesboro, Ga., where she bantered the world, but could not get a race. There were very few jockey clubs in the country at that time.


“But if I fall into the hands of the British they will surely shoot me!” urged the man below.




It got very quiet. The four soft clicks of the move being fed into the Machine were like the beat of a muffled drum.



chapter 1