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The Stowaway Girl   By: (1863-1928)

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First Page:

[Frontispiece: Hosier tightened a protecting arm around her waist]

THE STOWAWAY GIRL

By

LOUIS TRACY

AUTHOR OF

THE WINGS OF THE MORNING, SON OF THE IMMORTALS, CYNTHIA'S CHAUFFEUR, THE MESSAGE, THE SILENT BARRIER, ETC.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY

NESBIT BENSON

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1909, 1912,

By EDWARD J. CLODE

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. THE "ANDROMEDA" II. WHEREIN THE "ANDROMEDA" BEGINS HER VOYAGE III. WHEREIN THE "ANDROMEDA" NEARS THE END OF HER VOYAGE IV. SHOWING WHAT BECAME OF THE "ANDROMEDA" V. THE REFUGEES VI. BETWEEN THE BRAZILIAN DEVIL AND THE DEEP ATLANTIC VII. CROSS PURPOSES VIII. THE RIGOR OF THE GAME IX. WHEREIN CERTAIN PEOPLE MEET UNEXPECTEDLY X. ON THE HIGH SEAS XI. A LIVELY MORNING IN EXCHANGE BUILDINGS XII. THE LURE OF GOLD XIII. THE NEW ERA XIV. CARMELA XV. SHOWING HOW BRAZIL CHOSE HER PRESIDENT XVI. WHEREIN THE PRESIDENT PRESIDES

ILLUSTRATIONS

Hosier tightened a protective arm around her waist . . . Frontispiece

"Is that the Southern Cross?"

"How did I come here?"

"Well, gimme your 'and on it"

A withering volley crashed through the window

THE STOWAWAY

CHAPTER I

THE "ANDROMEDA"

"Marry Mr. Bulmer! That horrid old man! Uncle, what are you saying?"

The girl sprang to her feet as if she were some timid creature of the wild aroused from sylvan broodings by knowledge of imminent danger. In her terror, she upset the three wineglasses that formed part of the display beside each couvert on the luncheon table. One, rose tinted and ornate, crashed to the floor, and the noise seemed to irritate the owner of Linden House more than his niece's shrill terror.

"No need to bust up our best set of 'ock glasses just because I 'appen to mention owd Dickey Bulmer," he growled.

The color startled so suddenly out of the girl's face began to return. Her eyes lost their dilation of fear. Somehow, the comment on the broken glass seemed to deprive "owd Dickey Bulmer's" personality of its real menace.

"I'm sorry," she said, and stooped to pick up the fragments scattered over the carpet.

"Leave that alone," came the sharp order. "So long as I've the brass to pay for 'em, there's plenty more where that kem from, an' in any case, it's the 'ousemaid's job. Leave it alone, I tell you! An' sit down. It's 'igh time you an' me 'ad a straight talk, an' I can't do wi' folk bouncin' about like an injia rubber ball when I've got things to say to 'em."

He stretched a fat hand toward a mahogany cigar box, affected to choose a cigar with deliberative crackling, hacked at the selection with a fruit knife, and dropped the severed end into an unused finger bowl; then he struck a match, and puffed furiously until a rim of white ash tipped the brown. This achieved, he helped himself to the port. Though he carefully avoided glancing at his companion, he knew quite well that she had drawn a chair to the opposite end of the table, and was looking at him intently; her chin was propped on her clenched hands; the skin on her white forehead was puckered into nervous lines; her lips, pressed close, had lost their Cupid's bow that seemed ever ready to bend into a smile. Meanwhile, the man who had caused these signs of distress gulped down some of the wine, held the glass up to the light as a tribute to the excellence of its contents, darted his tongue several times in and out between his teeth, smacked his lips, replaced the cigar in his mouth, and leaned back in his chair until it creaked.

Iris Yorke was accustomed to this ritual; she gave it the unobservant tolerance good breeding extends to the commonplace. But to day, for the first time during the two years that had sped so happily since she came back to Linden House from a Brussels pension , she found herself, even in her present trouble, wondering how it was possible that David Verity could be her mother's brother... Continue reading book >>




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