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WEIR OF HERMISTON

steadily and quizzically, and his colour slowly rose and deepened under the glance, until not impudence itself could have denied that he was blushing. And at this Archie lost some of his control. He changed his stick from one hand to the other, and—'O, for God's sake, don't be an ass!' he cried.

'Ass? That's the retort delicate without doubt,' says Frank. 'Beware of the homespun brothers, dear. If they come into the dance, you'll see who's an ass. Think now, if they only applied (say) a quarter as much talent as I have applied to the question of what Mr. Archie does with his evening hours, and why he is so unaffectedly nasty when the subject's touched on———'

'You are touching on it now,' interrupted Archie with a wince.

'Thank you. That was all I wanted, an articulate confession,' said Frank.

'I beg to remind you———' began Archie.

But he was interrupted in turn. 'My

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