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Updated: May 17, 2025
Stanton had invited the artists, members of the press, and all the people that he knew, whether they knew him or not. Mrs. Frostwinch was there, Mrs. Staggchase, Elsie Dimmont, and Ethel Mott; and although Mrs. Bodewin Ranger was not actually present, she in a manner lent her countenance by sending her carriage to the door to call for one of her friends.
Bodewin Ranger responded, in her soft voice, "is a gentleman by birth, and his wife was a Caldwell; her mother was a Calvin, you know." Ethel Mott laughed. "And so he passes," she said, "in spite of his being an artist. How pleased he would be if he knew it." "It would be worth while to tell him," Mrs. Frostwinch interpolated, "just to hear his comments."
Bodewin Ranger yesterday, and she is really enthusiastic over this young Stanton that's going to make it. He is going to make it, isn't he?" Irons laughed his vulgar laugh, which Fenton once said was the laugh of a swineherd counting his pigs. "It has not been decided," he answered. "Stanton seems to have a good many friends." "Oh, he has, indeed," responded Miss Penwick eagerly.
He wore his hair long, its coarse, reddish masses showing conspicuously in a crowd, when he got to going about among such people as hunt lions in Boston. Mrs. Bodewin Ranger patronized him from afar, and could not be brought to invite him to her house. "Really, my dear," the beautiful old lady said to her husband; "it seems to me that people are not wise in asking Mr. Stanton about so much.
Herman; and Mr. Irons, who never will agree to anything that Mr. Hubbard wants, is putting up the claims of this new woman, just to be contrary." "What new woman? Mrs. Greyson?" "Yes. Mrs. Frostwinch told me all about it yesterday. Now there is a young man that we are interested in" "Who is 'we'?" interrupted Rangely. "Oh, Mrs. Frostwinch, and Mrs. Bodewin Ranger, and a number of us."
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