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Frederic, Harold, 1856-1898

"The Market-Place"


Intuition helped Thorpe to guess whom "they" might mean.
The temper visibly rising in the old man's mind was what he
had hoped for. He proceeded with an informed caution.
"Don't be annoyed if I touch upon family matters," he said.
"It's a part of what I must know, in order to help you.
I believe you're a widower, aren't you, General?"
The other, after a quick upward glance, shook his
head resentfully. "Mrs. Kervick lives in Italy with HER
son-in-law--and her daughter. He is a man of property--
and also, apparently, a man of remarkable credulity
and patience." He paused, to scan his companion's face.
"They divide him between them," he said then, from clenched
teeth--"and I--mind you--I made the match! He was
a young fellow that I found--and I brought him home
and introduced him--and I haven't so much as an Italian
postage-stamp to show for it. But what interest can
you possibly take in all this?" The unamiable glance
of his eyes was on the instant surcharged with suspicion.
"How many daughters have you?" Thorpe ventured the enquiry
with inward doubts as to its sagacity.
"Three," answered the General, briefly. It was evident
that he was also busy thinking.
"I ask because I met one of them in the country over Sunday,"
Thorpe decided to explain.
The old soldier's eyes asked many questions in the moment
of silence.


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