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Updated: June 6, 2025
Then the door from behind swung open. Mr. Penfield Evans stepped into Mrs. Gallup's cool, exclusive parlor of better days, and delivering his card to a moist-fingered maid, sat himself among the shrouded furniture to await Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and Miss Emelene Brand. Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house was finishing its noonday meal.
You'll be there just in time to greet George at dinner." Miss Emelene fell to stroking the cat, again curled like a sardelle in her lap. "Kitti-kitti-kitti , does muvver's ittsie Hanna want to go on visit to Tousin George in fine new ittie house? To fine Tousin Georgie what give ittsie Hanna big saucer milk evvy day? Big fine George what like ladies and lady kitties!"
Long may it reign!" Round spots of color had come out on Miss Emelene's long cheeks. "A man who can think like that has the true the true what shall I say, Alys?" "But, ladies, I protest that I'm not " "Has the true chivalry of spirit, Emelene, that the women are too stark raving mad to appreciate. You can't come here, Mr.
Was she asking if he were the knight of those women who worked and sweated and burned, or of her and the comfortable women of her class, of Alys Brewster-Smith with her little cottages, of Cousin Emelene with her little stocks, of masquerading Betty Sheridan whose sortie of independence was from the safe vantage-grounds of entrenched privilege?
George went on with his dressing, a thoughtful expression on his face. Genevieve thought he looked stunning in the loose Oriental robe he wore while he shaved. "Well, whatever they think, we can't have this, you know," he said presently. "I'll have to be quite frank with Alys, of course Emelene has no sense!" "Yes, be quite frank!" Genevieve urged eagerly.
What on earth could be the matter? She heard voices outside and craning her soft white neck, she saw Cousin Emelene, with her gray kitten under one arm and a large suitcase in her other hand, coming up the steps. There was a beatific expression in her gentle, faded eyes, and her lips were quivering uncertainly.
The other, shorter, slighter, several years older, a faded, smiling, tremulously hopeful spinster, was Genevieve's own cousin, Emelene Brand. "It's so nice of you to come " Geneviève began timidly, only to be swept aside by the superior aggressiveness and the stronger voice of Mrs. Brewster-Smith. "My dear! Isn't it perfectly delightful to see you actually mistress of this wonderful old home.
"'His support and his protection. If ever a man deserved high office because of high principles, it's my cousin George Remington! My cousin Genevieve Livingston Remington is the luckiest girl in the world, and not one of us Brands but what is willing to admit it. My two nephews, too, if their Aunt Emelene has anything to say, and I think she has "
This was a sentiment after Genevieve's own heart, but she found it rather too vague to meet the present somewhat tense situation. Cousin Emelene went on, clasping her at intervals, and talking very fast. "I can hardly believe it! Now that my time of trial is all over I don't mind telling you that I was growing embittered and cynical.
"Isn't there anything else than that to talk about ever?" "But just think how lucky you are, George," she said, "that at home they all think exactly as you do!" He jumped up. Evidently this reminder of the purring acquiescences of Cousin Emelene and Mrs. Brewster-Smith laid no balm upon his harassed spirit. "You may leave my home alone, if you please."
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