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Updated: May 28, 2025
Well, we looked funny, no doubt, Bella in a Russian pony automobile coat over the black satin she had worn at the Clevelands' dinner, and I in cream lace, the skirt gathered up from the kitchen floor, with Bella's ermine pelerine around my bare shoulders, and dishes and overturned chairs everywhere. Bella knew more about the lower regions of her ex-home than I would have thought.
"I know how you felt, dear; but it seems to me plain enough that your place is at home. You see, you're the eldest, and the others are but little things, and if you want Margery to know anything about her dear mother, you must teach her, and 'tis you must help to train her up to be what her mother would have wished her to be." Bella's bright, eager eyes filled with tears.
"Believe me, if he wasn't all right my Bella wouldn't let him hang on that way." "I've heard of him." "I wish you could see that Babette Dreyfous eying my Bella! She's just green because Bella's got him." "Do you use the double stitch in your crochet, Mrs. Blondheim? That's a pretty pattern you're workin' on." "Yes. I've just finished a set of doilies you'd pay twenty-five dollars for anywhere."
His eyes were cast down: a flush had risen in his cheek. Miss Bella's manner was not sweet; she wished evidently to slight somebody, and the painter could not flatter himself that the somebody was Mrs. Morrison, the only other person in the room beside the artist and his subject.
I've been troubling about Bella's having that long walk in all weathers, and the mornings and evenings getting darker and darker. Rocket's a good steady donkey too, I remember him; 'twas I advised poor old Mother Wintle to buy him," and he laughed at the recollection.
At the sight of her a flood of colour rushed to Bella's deathlike face, and she half rose to meet her; but when she felt the long tender kiss which had a whole world of tender pity in its silent language, she turned suddenly away, and throwing herself upon a couch, sobbed with the passionate vehemence of a child. From that moment she was eager to keep Lucia with her.
He died before reaching the tents of his division." Bella's voice faltered as she said, after a moment's pause, "Dear Elsie never recovered the shock. She joined her husband in heaven two months afterwards." "Truly," said I, "war is a terrible curse." "I hate it!
"That's what I was jist thinkin' about. I can't have it made at home, 'cause Susan an' Bella's in an' out every day. An' you can't have it here, for Jean an' the boys'll be home soon, an' they'd find out, an' if Lorry Sawyer was to get a sight of it, she'd remember all she's forgot.
Or if you spilled the gravy. Aunt Bella's face was much pinker and richer and more important than Mamma's face. She thought she wouldn't have minded quite so much if Aunt Bella had been white and brown and pretty, like Mamma. There she had spilled the gravy. Little knots came in Aunt Bella's pink forehead.
He wasted no time in idle regrets. He had been a fool, and he paid the price of fools. Bella, slamming noisily about the room, never suspected the presence in the untidy place of a third person a sturdy girl of twenty-two or three, very wholesome to look at, and with honest, intelligent eyes and a serene brow. "It'll get worse an' worse all the time," Bella's whine went on.
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