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Day, Holman (Holman Francis), 1865-1935

"The Ramrodders A Novel"

'"
They ate supper together in the old mess-hall, back on their former
footing. Word by word it came out of the Duke--his admiration for this
boy who had made his own way. Every blow he had dealt his grandfather's
personal pride had brought the reactionary glow of appreciation of this
scion who could hit so hard and so surely.
He watched him saddle his horse after supper. He did not ask where he
was going.
Harlan did not know. His longing drew him down the long street and
across the big bridge, his horse walking slowly.


CHAPTER XXVIII
ONE PROBLEM SOLVED

The dusk was cool and soft. Below him the current gurgled against the
piers with sounds as though the river's fairies laughed there in the
gloom. Doves nestled against the rafters of the bridge above, stirring
with tired murmurings.
When he came out under the stars he saw the red eyes of Dennis
Kavanagh's house. The sight of them put the peace of the sky and fields
out of his heart. He spurred his horse and galloped up the hill.
Even as Thelismer Thornton found true haven on his porch in the summer
evening, so Dennis Kavanagh had his solace in his own domain, smoking
his pipe.


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