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Flood Tide

Chapter 8 SHADOWS

Word Count: 2356    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

ogether as before, but as they worked each was conscious that a barrier of sudden reserve had sprung up between them, obstructing the perfect confidence that

ssed nervousness and irritation that found welcome vent in the hammer's vigorous blow. Nevertheless, as

f the greatest intimacy. It even demanded no very skilled psychologist to perceive the girl's sentiment toward his guest, for Miss Galbraith was a petulent, self-willed creature who did not tro

human nature was a frail,

rich and attractive as Cynthia Galbraith, especially if her brother chanced

sing interest. Furthermore, of late he had been doing a little private castle-building, the foundations of which now abruptly collapsed into ruins at his feet. The cornerstone of this dream-structure had been laid the day he

he and Celestina were unquestionably keeping pace with the rest. In the natural course of events, before many years Delight would be deprived of her protectors and be left alone in the great world to fend for herself. She was well able to do so, for she was resourceful and capable and would never be forced to marry for a home

the colleges, the business schools, or gone to test their strength in the city's marts of commerce. Who could blame them for not resting content with baiting lobster pots and dredging for scallops? Were he a young man with his path untrodden before him he would have been one of the first to do the same, Willie confessed. Did he not consta

life; the unfulfilled dreams that had kept him holy; a part of the divine in him; echoes of hungers and longings that reached unsatisfied into a world other than this. Earth had failed to consummate the loves and ambitions of the dreamer. His had been a flattened, warped, starved e

al woman, the prototype of all that was purest, most selfless, most tender; most to be revered, watched over, beloved. Yet for all his worship the girl remained for him very human, a creature with bewitching and appealing ways. In the same spirit in which he rejoiced in the tint of a rose's petal

g a husband for his divinity Willie was difficult to please; or that he studied with a

he point,-Billy Farwell, with his racing car and his dogs and his general air of elegance and idleness. Delight had known him since she was a child. And there was Jasper Carlton, the scholarly scientist, years the girl's senior, who annually came to board with the Brewsters during the vacation months. Both of these men paid court to the village beauty,

e suitors, to place a man of Bob Morton's attributes in the same category with them seemed absurd. Why, he was head and shoulders above them mentally, morally, physically,-from whichever angle one viewed him. Moreover, blood will tell, and was he not of the fine old Morton stock? Whatever t

er monopoly of Bob Morton, and was its exclusiveness gratifying or irksome to its recipient? Might not this strange young man, concerning whom Willie was forced to own he actually knew

rary to the common law, the guest must be rated as guilty until he had proved himself innocent. Yet as he darted a glance at the earnest young face bending over the workbench Willie's conscience smote hi

ewster houses. In another instant Delight Hathaway strolled slowly out of the wood and entered the workshop. With her coming a radiance of sunshine seemed to flood the shabby room. She nodded a greeting to Bob, then went straight to Will

his mild blue eyes to meet

brown one, "so you have come for your buckle, have you? It is all done, honey, an

presence had for the time being dispelled all baser su

white package, Rober

the box with its immaculate paper

ely interpreting the interrogation. "Neither him or I were guns e

eturned Delight with gravity. "If

man stepped in

e feller who did it was used to mendin' jewelry an' knew just

teful smile toward Willie. "I

the delicate fingers

t on. "You'd never know there w

derful!"

old inventor's last compuncti

!" she went on. "You are qui

I'm glad you like it,"

eed

leather round her waist and Bob

r hand in mocking imitation of a m

e, and as for Robert Morton he could have gone down on h

too soon she relaxed from rigidity into

"You know you never have secrets from me. Wh

Willie glanced m

s I've tackled, an' it may not turn out to be anything at all; still, Bob has studied boats an' knows a heap about 'em, an' he believes somethin' can be made of it. But 'til our fish is hooked we ain't shoutin' that we'v

th before his listeners saw him start

On the threshold of the wor

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