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Updated: June 27, 2025
It was wrong for me ever to have anything to do with Senator Brander, but I was such a girl then I hardly knew what I was doing. It was wrong of me not to tell you about Vesta when I first met you, though I thought I was doing right when I did it. It was terribly wrong of me to keep her here all that time concealed, Lester, but I was afraid of you then afraid of what you would say and do.
Shyness was no fault of Jims. "I came from the house over the wall," he said. "My name is James Brander Churchill. Aunt Augusta shut me up in the blue room because I spilled my pudding at dinner. I hate to be shut up. And I was to have had a ride this afternoon and ice cream and maybe a movie. So I was mad. And when your Very Handsome Cat came and looked at me I just got out and climbed down."
"You go up and see Senator Brander," he continued. "He's in twenty-two. Here," he added, writing out the number, "you go up and tell him I sent you." Mrs. Gerhardt took the card with a tremor of gratefulness. Her eyes looked the words she could not say. "That's all right," said the clerk, observing her emotion. "You go right up. You'll find him in his room now." With the greatest diffidence Mrs.
Brander," he said at last, "I feel, and I think naturally, very sore at the cruel wrong that has been inflicted upon me, but I cannot forget that in my boyhood I was always received with kindness by your wife, and for her sake, and that of your daughters, I am most anxious your reputation should remain untarnished.
The next scene, however, is of the opera operatic, and from that point of view the most perfect in the work. It discloses the revel of students, citizens, and soldiers in Auerbach's cellar. Brander sings the song of the rat which by good living had developed a paunch "like Dr. Luther's," but died of poison laid by the cook.
"Did it never occur to you, Miss Brander, that it was a natural thing one should have many sketches of the girl who always stood as a model in the studio, and that every student there would have his sketch-book full of them?
The junior Senator, George Sylvester Brander, was a man of peculiar mold. In him there were joined, to a remarkable degree, the wisdom of the opportunist and the sympathetic nature of the true representative of the people. Born a native of southern Ohio, he had been raised and educated there, if one might except the two years in which he had studied law at Columbia University.
Arthur Train's narrative, who began life humbly somewhere in grey New England, and ended it, so far as the reader was informed, in Sing Sing Prison. Then there was the home of Mrs. Martin, the "Duchess of Washington Square" of Brander Matthews's "The Last Meeting," and that of Miss Grandish, of Julian Ralph's "People We Pass," and the house of Mrs.
I was so surprised that I not only wrote to Brander himself but to the official liquidator. The former said he had advanced the money at the urgent request of my father, who told him he wished to settle a very long standing claim upon him, and that he desired that the transaction should be kept an absolute secret.
George Sylvester Brander, junior Senator. "Wasn't that a fine-looking man who went up just now?" observed Jennie a few moments later. "Yes, he was," said her mother. "He had a gold-headed cane." "You mustn't stare at people when they pass," cautioned her mother, wisely. "It isn't nice." "I didn't stare at him," returned Jennie, innocently. "He bowed to me."
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