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Updated: June 6, 2025
Emelene's expression was puzzled and worried, as a child's is worried when the child is suddenly confronted by strange and gloomy surroundings. "There is some one in the renting office," said Geneviève with quiet determination. "I'll find out. We shall need a guide to go around with us. Emelene, you needn't get out unless you wish to."
Brewster-Smith turned back to her young cousin-by-marriage and murmured, "That was such a true and deep saying of George's... wherever does such a young man get his wisdom!... that women are not fitted by nature to cope with hostile forces!" Cousin Emelene approached from behind the statue of Genevieve, still frozen in place with an expression of stupefaction on her white face.
"And now you have asked me here; one of the dearest old places in town!" Emelene added innocently. Genevieve listened in a stupefaction. This was married life, then? Not since her childhood had Genevieve so longed to stamp, to scream, to protest, to tear this twisted scheme apart and start anew! She was not a crying woman, but she wanted to cry now.
"Just gather me up what's there, on the plate," Emelene said, with her nervous little laugh in the silence. "I declare I don't know when I've eaten such a dinner! But that reminds me that you could help me out wonderfully, too, Cousin George I can't quite call you Mr. Remington! with those wretched stocks of mine.
Then they reeled away up the street, gasping and choking with mirth, festooning themselves about trees for support when their legs gave way under them. "Did you see George's face when Emelene let the cat eat out of her plate!" cried Betty. "And did you see Genevieve's when Mrs. Brewster-Smith had the dessert set down in front of her to serve!"
Aghast, they had perceived the same awful truth. You sent her away for that? So they stood looking down this dark gulf, and the light of anger died. In a toneless voice: "We mustn't let Cousin Emelene and Alys hear us quarreling," said George. And Genevieve answered, "They've gone down to breakfast." The two ladies were seated at table.
"This cat has the feelings and sensibilities of a human being." "Why of course," cried Penfield Evans, reaching for his hat. "Just you bring Hanna right along, Miss Emelene. That's only a pet pose of George's when he wants to tease his relatives, Mrs. Smith. I remember from college why I've seen George kiss a cat!"
"George isn't like that at all," she said. "He's he's really fine. He's old-fashioned and sentimental about women, but he isn't a hypocrite. He really means those things he says. Why..." And then Betty went on to tell her new friend about Cousin Emelene and Alys Brewster-Smith, and how George, though he writhed, had stood the gaff.
Frieda was taking Eleanor for her usual afternoon walk. Will you just send them upstairs when they come! I suppose Frieda will have the room in the third story, that extra room that was finished off when Uncle Henry lived here. Emelene, you'd better come right up, too, if you expect to get unpacked before dinner."
To quote again, 'Woman is man's rarest heritage, his beautiful responsibility, and at all times his co-operation, support and protection are due her. His support and protection." Miss Emelene closed her eyes. The red had spread in her cheeks and she laid her head back against the chair, rocking softly and stroking the thick-napped cat. "The flower of womanhood," she repeated.
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