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Updated: June 28, 2025
All trace of the boy had gone, and his countenance was now that of the man, and of one who had suffered. As soon as he recovered sufficient strength to act with decision, he indignantly tried to banish Christine's image from his memory. But he found this impossible.
"Yes, I know Aunt Charlotte's way of talking; but I dare say no one wanted to marry her, so she makes the best of her circumstances." Bessie could not help laughing at Christine's bluntness. "Well, you are right, Chrissy; but Aunt Charlotte is not the least ashamed of the fact. She told me once that no one had ever fallen in love with her, 'I could not expect them to do so, she remarked candidly.
It had a colossal bed, surpassing even Christine's. A muslined maid was bending over some drapery-shop boxes on the floor and removing garments therefrom. Concepcion greeted her like a sister. "Don't let me disturb you, Emily," she said, and to G.J., "Emily was poor Queenie's maid, and she has come to me for a little while." G.J. amicably nodded. Tears came suddenly into the maid's eyes.
All he wanted now was quiet happiness the life of domesticity for which he had once pitied himself, believing it would be his lot as Christine's husband, seemed the most desirable thing on earth; just he and she perhaps down in the country walking through fields and woods, perhaps at Upton House, with the crowd of old memories to draw them together again, and wipe the hard bitterness from little Christine's brown eyes.
Next morning early, the two children were sitting high up on the pile of firewood in the boat, eating bread and whistleberries. Christine's father and his assistant propelled the boat with staves.
What Napoleon said of Ney is also true of Custer, "He was the bravest of the brave." The recital of Custer's deeds nerved Alfonso to renewed efforts to win Christine's hand.
By a great effort Christine recovered herself and said, "You know how deeply fine paintings always affect me." Dennis of course knew nothing of Christine's feelings. He could only see that his picture had produced a profound effect on her, and that she had eyes for nothing else. But he overheard Mr. Cornell say, "It is indeed a remarkable painting" "Do you know its author?" asked Mr.
March's eyes still dwelt upon Christine's face; it was full of a furtive wildness. She seemed to be keeping a watch to prevent herself from looking as if she were looking for some one. "Do you know," Mrs. March said to her husband as they jingled along homeward in the Christopher Street bob-tail car, "I thought she was in love with that detestable Mr.
This, while he inwardly sneered at it, avenged him upon his own too keen sense of them, and, together with his temporary allegiance to Margaret's goodness, kept him from retaliating Christine's vulgarity. He said, "I don't see how that could be," and left the question of flattery to settle itself. The people began to go away, following each other up to take leave of Mrs. Horn.
"Well, now I can almost say, Praise God for the fire, though old Dr. Arten must commence again where the youngsters are who kick up their heels in their office all day." With professional instinct he slipped his finger on Christine's pulse, then rummaged in his pocket and soon drew out some powders, and in his brusque way made her take one. "Oh, how bitter!" she exclaimed.
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