"H'm! Barrie. I don't go much on
him. He's too sissy for me. But I could have guessed the other
Ned Bannister would be reading something like that," he
concluded, a flicker of sneering contempt crossing his face.
"Perhaps y'u'll learn some time to attend to your own business,"
said the man on the couch quietly.
Hatred gleamed in the narrowed slits from which the soul of the
other cousin looked down at him. "I'm a philanthropist, and my
business is attending to other people's. They raise sheep, for
instance, and I market them."
The girl hastily interrupted. She had not feared for herself, but
she knew fear for the indomitable man she had nursed back to
life. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Bannister? Since you don't approve
our literature, perhaps we can find some other diversion more to
your taste." She smiled faintly.
The man turned in smiling divination of her purpose, and sat down
to play with her as a cat does with a mouse.
"Thank y'u, Miss Messiter, I believe I will. I called to thank
y'u for your kindness to my cousin as well as to inquire about
you. The word goes that y'u pulled my dear cousin back when death
was reaching mighty strong for him. Of course I feel grateful to
y'u.
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