The City of Fire by Grace Livingston Hill
page 59 of 366 (16%)
page 59 of 366 (16%)
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almost as if to welcome an unexpected guest. In the sudden flood of the
porch light his face was illumined, and behind him the pretty living room gave a sweet homely setting. The stranger stood for an instant blinking, half astonished; then the memory of his rendezvous at break of day brought back his irritation at the delay. "Are you Parsons?" he demanded, just as if "Parsons" were at fault that he had not been on hand before. "Parsons?" said Mr. Severn reflectively. "I don't recall anyone of that name hereabouts. Perhaps you are on the wrong road. There is a Parsons at Monopoly." "Parsons is the name. Aren't you Parsons? A couple of men down the road said you were, and that you could fix me up. They said right next the church and that your light was still burning." The visitor's tone was belligerent. Severn's face cleared with a smile. "Oh, they must have said 'Parson,' they often call me that. Come in. What can I do for you?" The young man eyed him coldly and made no move to enter. "Parson or Parsons, it makes no difference does it? Mr. Parson, if you're so particular then, come out and look at my car. It seems to be in bad shape, and be quick about it. I've got over two hundred miles to make before daybreak, so get a hustle on. I'll pay you well if you don't waste any time." |
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