The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. In the bad light he looked at once military and sentimental and studious, like one of Ouida’s guardsmen revised by Mr. " "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. "Because it's not like you," was her answer. '—'What is it, Mint?' asked all three. Both Ruth and McClintock came down to the launch to wish him God-speed and good luck. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. “I wish he had,” she said.
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