The Consul by Richard Harding Davis
page 19 of 30 (63%)
page 19 of 30 (63%)
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Livingstone, also, laughed, with the satisfied air of one who
cannot be tricked. "They fixed it up between them," he explained, " each was to put in a good word for the other." He nodded eagerly. "That's what I think." There were moments during the cruise when Senator Hanley would have found relief in dropping his host overboard. With mock deference, the older man inclined his head. "That's what you think, is it?" he asked. "Livingstone," he added, "you certainly are a great judge of men!" The next morning, old man Marshall woke with a lightness at his heart that had been long absent. For a moment, conscious only that he was happy, he lay between sleep and waking, frowning up at his canopy of mosquito net, trying to realize what change had come to him. Then he remembered. His old friend had returned. New friends had come into his life and welcomed him kindly. He was no longer lonely. As eager as a boy, he ran to the window. He had not been dreaming. In the harbor lay the pretty yacht, the stately, white-hulled war- ship. The flag that drooped from the stern of each caused his throat to tighten, brought warm tears to his eyes, fresh resolve to his discouraged, troubled spirit. When he knelt beside his bed, his heart poured out his thanks in gratitude and gladness. While he was dressing, a blue-jacket brought a note from the admiral. It invited him to tea on board the war-ship, with the |
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