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Whenever they seemed to be having a peaceful discussion of Lulu Hartwig's canary-yellow sweater, they were hearing her voice, wondering if they could tolerate its twangy comments the rest of their lives. If the weather was clear they sat out in the rose-arbor as though they were soon to lose it.
But his first proposition toward river improvement had been checked. He had bought a large house and grounds. He made for himself a rose-arbor, and for four years he was as much unoccupied as his lively mind permitted. He was at any rate what is called a man of leisure.
But they had an even greater pride the rose-arbor. Sheltered by laurel from the sea winds was a whitewashed lattice, covered with crimson ramblers. Through a gap in the laurels they could see the ocean, stabbingly blue in contrast to the white dunes which reared battlements along the top of the gravel cliff. Far out a coasting schooner blossomed on the blue skyline.
Grey cried, almost pleadingly; and Miss McPherson rejoined: "She is in the garden. You will find her in the rose-arbor." Grey waited for no more, but went rapidly in the direction of the summer-house where Bessie sat with her back to him, and did not see him until his hands were upon her face and his voice said to her: "Bessie, darling Bessie!"
Juno stood in a rose-arbor and pointed to the artists at their work. "Did you ever see anything like that, Paul?" "Like what?" "Like those sweet simpletons yonder. They have for years been quite oblivious of the world about them.
I've come here on purpose." "Well, my love, you and Bee are always great friends. You haven't a worrying way with you. She's in the rose-arbor. You can find her, child. You walk straight down that path, and then turn to your left." Catherine did not wait another instant.
As they rested in the rose-arbor at dusk of that day, Father burst out in desperate seriousness: "Oh my dear, my dear, it is going to go! I was beginning to get scared. I couldn't have forgiven myself if I'd let you in for something that would have been a failure. Golly! I've been realizing that we would have been pretty badly up against it if the tea-room hadn't panned out right.
Suddenly the wind wafted from the church at Potsdam the clear tones of a bell, announcing to the king the hour of four, the death of Voltaire. The king walked along to the rose-arbor, to the temple of friendship, where the bust of his sister Frederika was placed.
Father stopped on the step and winked an immense shameless wink at Mother, and she sighed and said, with unexpected understanding, "Yes, I'm afraid Lulu is a little just a leet-le bit " "And I reckon we won't be in such a gosh-awful hustle to visit her." Mother was so vulgar as to grunt, "Well, I guess not!" That evening they sat in the rose-arbor again. And had tone poems on the mouth-organ.
He feverishly threw out one hand. It struck the mouth-organ he had thrown upon the bed, struck it sharply, with a pain that pierced to his nerve-centers. He had the dismaying thought, "I'll never play the mouth-organ to her again.... We won't ever sit in the rose-arbor while I play the mouth-organ to her. Where is she? Yes! Yes! This is her hand." He was trying to think now.
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