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He remembered the story they told of this perennial beau of how he had been in love with every woman in and around Kennedy Square, from Miss Clendenning down to the latest debutante, and of how he would tell you over his first toddy that he had sown his wild oats and was about to settle down for life, and over his last the sixth, or seventh, or eighth that the most adorable woman in town, after a life devoted to her service, had thrown him over, and that henceforth all that was left to him was a load of buckshot and six feet of earth.
Entering the park, they crossed the site of the once lovely flower-beds, now trampled flat as was everything else in the grounds and so on to the marble steps of the Horn Mansion. Mrs. Horn met them at the top of the stairs. She put her arms silently about Margaret, kissed her tenderly, and led her into Richard's room. Oliver and Miss Clendenning stood at the door.
"My dear Max," Richard continued, with a hand on the musician's shoulder, patting him in appreciation as he spoke, "we will forgive you anything. You have so exactly suited to the 'cello the opening theme. And the flute passages! they are exquisitely introduced. We will let Miss Clendenning decide when she hears it " and he turned Unger's head in the direction of the advancing lady.
"We are coming home with Phil for supper to-night, Mrs. Taylor, and the Prince wants an introduction to your custard pie. Yes'm, seven sharp! Come on, Bob!" "My Buzz," I said to that Mr. Buzz Clendenning as he raced the slim car through the country and the city up to the Capitol hill, "you give to me a life of much joy in only a few days. I would that it could so continue."
Miss Clendenning heaped the broken coals closer together, laid the tongs back in their place on the fender, and, turning to Margaret, said, with a sigh: "Don't ask me, my dear. I never dare ask myself, but do you keep your hand close in Oliver's. Remember, dear, close close! Then you will never know the bitterness of a lonely life."
How the old walls, impregnable from childhood, begin to crumble! How little now the dear mother knows she so wise but a few moons since. How this new love steps in front of the old love and claims every part of the boy as its very own. Faithful to her promise, Miss Clendenning waited the next morning for Oliver in her little boudoir that opened out of the library.
Two ladies were picking their way across the street in the direction of the club. These, on closer inspection, proved to be Miss Lavinia Clendenning and her niece, Sue Dorsey, who had been descried in the offing a few minutes before by the gallants on the curbstone, and who at first had been supposed to be heading for Mrs. Before St.
Just think, he was a young student in Dusseldorf for two years, and then he shouldered a knapsack and tramped all through Switzerland, painting as he went, and often paying for his lodgings with his sketches. Then he was in Paris for ever so long, and now he is here, where " "Where you tell me he is painting dogs for a living," interrupted Miss Clendenning.
Margaret's confessions were always made in this determined way, head thrown back like a soldier's, as though a new resolve had been born even while an old sin was being confessed. "Go on," said Miss Clendenning. "I understand. You mean that you did not know her."
Nathan, who was already inside sitting by the fire, his long, thin legs stretched out, his bunchy white hair, parted in the middle, falling to his collar's edge, sprang up and shook Oliver's hand heartily. He had charged Malachi, when he admitted him, to keep his presence secret. He wanted them to have Oliver all to themselves. Miss Clendenning entered a moment later with both hands held out.
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