Somewhere, on beyond–––
But oh! Mary-Clare was young, young, and her beyond was not the beyond of Peneluna; or if it were, it lay far, far across a desert stretch.
CHAPTER XVI
Northrup had cast himself upon Twombley’s hospitality with the plea of business. He outlined a programme and demanded silence.
“I’m going to buy this Point,” he confided, “and I’m going to go away, Twombley. I’m going to leave things exactly as they are until––well, perhaps always. Just consider yourself my superintendent.”
Twombley blinked.
“Snatching hot cakes?” he asked. “Spoiling Maclin’s meal?”
“Something like that, yes. I don’t know what all this means, Twombley, but I’m going to take no chances. I want to be in a position to hit square if anything needs hitting. If no one knows that I’m in on this deal, I’ll be better pleased––but I want you to keep me informed.”