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He spoke to Kate’s friend, and was introduced. Kate felt in her heart it was because of her presence there he came. His bold black eyes told her as much and she was flattered. They fell to talking. “You say you spent the summer near Albany, Mr. Temple,” said Kate presently, “I wonder if you happen to know any of my friends. Did you meet a Mr. Spafford? David Spafford?”
He was walking with a tall splendid-looking man, with whom he was engaged in most earnest conversation, and his look was grave and deeply absorbed. He did not know of Kate’s presence in New York, and passed the house in utter unconsciousness of the eyes watching him.
Up to that moment Marcia had been a very negative factor in the affair to Kate’s mind. She had been annoyed and angry at her as one whose ignorance and impertinence had brought her into an affair where she did not belong, but now she suddenly faced the fact that Marcia must be reckoned with.
It seemed a shame that Kate should not have her things after all. The pleasure died out of Marcia’s eyes as she carefully looped the soft blue ribbons under her round chin and drew on Kate’s long gloves. There was no denying the fact that Kate’s outfit was becoming to Marcia, for she had that complexion that looks well with any color under the sun, though in blue she was not at her best.
If she had accepted the sacrifice of living Kate’s life for her, she might at least have the privilege of living it in the pleasantest possible way, and surely the matter of dress was one she might be allowed to settle for herself if she was old enough at all to be trusted away from home. Among the pretty things that Kate had made was a sweet rose-pink silk tissue.
So while the family stood in solemn conclave in Kate’s room the preparations for the wedding moved steadily forward below stairs, and only two solemn maids, of all the helpers that morning, knew that a tragedy was hovering in the air and might burst about them.
“I should judge him a little straitlaced for your merry ways,” he responded gallantly, “but he’s like all the rest, fickle, you know. He’s married. Have you heard?” Kate’s face darkened with something hard and cruel, but her voice was soft as a cat’s purr: “Yes,” she sighed, “I know. He married my sister. Poor child! I am sorry for her.
Carrington, who, before Kate’s arrival, had been considered the belle of the town, so far as beauty was concerned. She also felt great contempt for Kate’s occupation as a teacher, and said, "She didn’t see why folks should make such an ado over a poor music teacher." Once, in speaking on the subject to Dr.
In the midst of all this Fanny lay calmly and quietly on her low bed, counting each succeeding sun as it rose and set, bringing nearer and nearer a day she so much dreaded. True to her promise, Kate Miller came two days before the wedding. Fanny was asleep when she entered the room to see her, but on the white, wasted face Kate’s tears fell as she said, "Poor Fanny! I did not know she was so ill."
She wished she might have had the chance in Kate’s place, and then all of a sudden the revelation came to her. She loved David herself with a great overwhelming love. Not just a love that could come and keep house for him and save him from the criticisms and comments of others; but with a love that demanded to be loved in return; a love that was mindful of every dear lineament of his countenance.
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