The Isle of Unrest by Henry Seton Merriman
page 95 of 294 (32%)
page 95 of 294 (32%)
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"You are welcome to take the survey," answered Lory, taking the outstretched, cordial hand, "but I must ask you to let me keep the land. I did not take your offer seriously." "It was intended seriously, I assure you." "Then it was my mistake," answered Lory, quite pleasantly. He tapped himself vigorously on the chest, and made a gesture indicating that at a word from the colonel he was ready to lay violent hands upon himself for having been so foolish. The colonel laughed, and shrugged his shoulders as if the matter were but a small one. The pitiless Mediterranean, almost African, sun poured down on them, and one of those short spells of absolute calm, which are characteristic of these latitudes, made it unbearably hot. The colonel took off his cap, and, sitting down in quite a friendly way near de Vasselot on a rock, proceeded to mop his high forehead, pressing back the thin smooth hair which was touched here and there with grey. "You have come here at the wrong time," he said. "The heats have begun. One longs for the cool breezes of Paris or of Normandy." And he paused, giving Lory an opportunity of explaining why he had come at this time, which opportunity was promptly neglected. "At all events, count," said the colonel, replacing his cap and lighting a cigarette, "I did not deceive you as to the nature of the land which I wished to buy. It is a desert, as you see. And yet I cannot help thinking that something might be made of this land." |
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