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Green Fancy by George Barr McCutcheon
page 40 of 337 (11%)
from the confidence she had expressed in the ability and integrity of
the old man who drove with far greater recklessness than one would
have looked for in a wild and irresponsible youngster.

He recalled, with a thrill, the imperious manner in which she gave
directions to the man, and his surprising servility. It suddenly
occurred to him that she was no ordinary person; he was rather amazed
that he had not thought of it before.

She had confessed to total ignorance regarding the driver of that
ramshackle conveyance; to being utterly at sea in the neighbourhood;
to having walked like any country bumpkin from the railroad station,
lugging an unconscionably heavy bag; and yet, despite all this, she
seemed amazingly sure of herself. He recalled her frivolous remark
about her jewels, and now wondered if there had not been more truth
than jest in her words. Then there was the rather significant
alteration in tone and manner when she spoke to the driver. The soft,
somewhat deliberate drawl gave way to sharp, crisp sentences; the
quaint good humour vanished and in its place he had no difficulty in
remembering a very decided note of command.

Moreover, now that he thought of it, there was, even in the agreeable
rejoinders she had made to his offerings, the faint suggestion of an
accent that should have struck him at the time but did not for the
obvious reason that he was then not at all interested in her. Her
English was so perfect that he had failed to detect the almost
imperceptible foreign flavour that now took definite form in his
reflections. He tried to place this accent. Was it French, or Italian,
or Spanish? Certainly it was not German. The lightness of the Latin
was evident, he decided, but it was all so faint and remote that
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