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Mr. Isaacs by F. Marion (Francis Marion) Crawford
page 54 of 266 (20%)
hammock, with feet swinging to the ground, and all the weight in the
middle of the thing, knows how difficult it is to get out with grace, or
indeed in any way short of rolling out and running for luck. You may
break all your bones in the feat, and you both look and feel as if you
were going to. Though we both sprang forward to her assistance, Miss
Westonhaugh had recognised the inexpediency of moving after the first
essay, and, with a smile of greeting, and the faintest tinge of
embarrassment on her fair cheek, abandoned the attempt; the quaint
little jackal sat up, backing against the side of the house, and, eyeing
us critically, growled a little.

"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Isaacs. How do you do, Mr.----"

"Griggs," murmured Isaacs, as he straightened a rope of the hammock by
her side.

"Mr. Griggs?" she continued. "We met last night, briefly, but to the
point, or at least you and my uncle did. I am alone; my uncle is gone
down towards Kalka to meet my brother, who is coming up for a fortnight
at the end of the season to get rid of the Bombay mould. Bring up some
of those chairs and sit down. I cannot tell what has become of the
'bearer' and the 'boy,' and the rest of the servants, and I could not
make them understand me if they were here. So you must wait on
yourselves."

I was the first to lay hands on a chair, and as I turned to bring it I
noticed she was following Isaacs with the same expression I had seen on
her face the previous evening; but I could see it better now. A pleasant
friendly look, not tender so much as kind, while the slightest possible
contraction of the eyes showed a feeling of curiosity. She was evidently
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