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Is it an affair of the heart, precious?" Frances's face grew very red. Even Mrs. Carnegie ought to have been satisfied for one brief moment with her bloom. "I fear I can only give you a very prosaic reason," she said, in her gentle, sad voice. "I have little or no color because I am always shut up in hot rooms, and because I miss the open-air life to which I was accustomed." Mrs.
But he had a vague feeling that his wife was acting in obedience to some secret influence of the confessional an influence of which he could not understand the aim or object, but which explained, in part at least, Frances's inconceivable obstinacy with regard to the disappearance of the orphans.
In that peace and tranquillity where nothing ever happened, Jerry's violent death would have counted as an event, a date to reckon by; but for three memorable things that happened, one after another, in the summer and autumn of 'ninety-nine: the return of Frances's brother, Maurice Fleming, from Australia where Anthony had sent him two years ago, on the express understanding that he was to stay there; the simultaneous arrival of Anthony's brother, Bartholomew, and his family; and the outbreak of the Boer War.
All this time Frances's eyes had been fixed on her plate; she had scarcely dared to breathe since her aunt's allusion. Now she looked up, bravely, though her cheeks were flaming and her heart beating as if to choke her.
I took five years earning it, for all those five years I lived as a very poor man, I was adding penny to penny, and pound to pound, to Frances's fortune." "That is right," exclaimed Fluff, clapping her hands. "Frances's fortune then, of course, then you will spend it in saving her." "I would spend every penny to save her, if I only knew how." "How stupid you are," said Fluff.
Sympathetic Betty lifted the vizard, saying: "Cover your face till we go to my room. Poor mistress! It must be all awry with your love, and I have heard that there is no pain like it." We climbed the steps, and, as we were going across the yard, Betty twined her arm about Frances's waist. Wishing to comfort her by changing the subject, she said:
In the distance he saw the gray of Frances's dress through the trees, and Philip's square, manly, upright figure walking slowly by her side. He pushed open the window, and hoarsely and angrily called his daughter's name. "She doesn't hear you," said Fluff. "I expect he's proposing for her now; isn't it lovely? Aren't you delighted? Oh, where's my guitar?
She was a pretty little thing and quick as lightning just the opposite of old Herrick. Wouldn't it be funny if they were in love; not, of course, like They had nowhere to go Christmas. If Frances would let them they might come here no, not here, but at his home, their home. His home was Frances's. It wouldn't be home for him if it weren't for her also. He would ask her.
Farquhar stormed, and Ned swore, and Della lamented her vanished role of bridemaid. As for Mrs. Farquhar, she cried and said it would ruin Frances's future prospects. The girl herself took no part in the family indignation meetings. But she believed that her heart was broken. Her love and her pride had suffered equally, and the effect seemed disastrous.
"I fear the same is true of all women," answered Frances, with a sigh. "If a woman could but say to her heart, 'Thou shalt' and 'Thou shalt not, there would be fewer unhappy women in this world." "Oh, do you, too, know that awful truth?" exclaimed Nelly, eagerly bringing her hands to Frances's shoulders. "Tell me all about it. There is nothing sweeter than to hear the troubles of a friend.
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