Thurston nodded, smiled slightly, drew his tablets from his pocket, tore
a leaf out, took his pencil, laid the paper upon the corner of the
mantel-piece, wrote a few lines, folded the note, and concealed it in
his hand as the door opened, and admitted Mrs. Waugh, Marian and
Jacquelina. There was a telegraphic glance between the elder lady and
the young man.
That of Mrs. Waugh said:
"Do have pity on the fools, and go, Thurston."
That of Thurston said:
"I am going, Mrs. Waugh, and without laughing, if I can help it."
Then he picked up his shooting cap, bowed to Jacquelina, shook hands
with Mrs. Waugh, and pressing Marian's palm, left within it the note
that he had written, took up his game bag and gun, and departed.
CHAPTER XXIII.
SANS SOUCI'S LAST FUN.
"The inconceivable idiots!" said Thurston, as he strode on through the
park of Luckenough, "to fancy that any one with eyes, heart and brain,
could possibly fall in love with the 'Will-o'-the-wisp' Jacquelina, or
worse, that giglet, Angelica; when he sees Marian! Marian, whose least
sunny tress is dearer to me than are all the living creatures in the
world besides. Marian, for whose possession I am now about to risk
everything, even her own esteem.
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