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Bindloss, Harold, 1866-1945

"Winston of the Prairie"

"No," he said almost abjectly.
Maud Barrington turned from him to her hostess as she answered, "That
will suffice, in the meanwhile, until I can decide whether it is
desirable to make known the rest of the tale. I brought the new song
Evelyn wanted, Mrs. Macdonald, and I will play it for her, if she would
care to try it."
She moved away with the elder lady, and left the rest astonished to
wonder what had become of Ferris, who was seen no more that evening,
while presently Winston came in.
His face was a trifle weary, for he had toiled since the sun rose above
the rim of the prairie and when the arduous day was over and those who
worked for him were glad to rest their aching limbs, had driven two
leagues to Macdonald's. Why he had done so, he was not willing to
admit, but he glanced around the long room anxiously as he came in, and
his eyes brightened as they rested on Maud Barrington. They were,
however, observant eyes, and he noticed that there was a trifle more
color than usual in the girl's pale-tinted face, and signs of
suppressed curiosity about some of the rest. When he had greeted his
hostess he turned to one of the men.
"It seems to me you are either trying not to see something, Gordon, or
to forget it as soon as you can," he said.
Gordon laughed at little. "You are not often mistaken, Courthorne.
That is precisely what we are doing. I presume you haven't heard what
occurred here an hour ago?"
"No!" said Winston.


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