Chapter XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters. ” Sir John frowned. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. "Once in this chair, yer hon'r, and I'll warrant he'll not get out so aisily as Jack Sheppard did from the New Pris'n. "All my life I've dreamed of something like this," he said, divertingly, with a gesture which included the yacht. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. " After all those former bitter failures, this cup was sweet, even if there was the flavour of irony. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. When he’s found out where she’s staying, I’ll have him keep an eye on Valade’s residence in Paddington, I think. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow. After Gwen!” “I sent a telegram. ! He’ll come a cropper one of these days, if you ask me.
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