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Updated: June 4, 2025
There are moods in which I could imagine myself in love with an academic person. That regularity of line; that reasoned strictness of contour; that neatness of pose; that slightly conventional but harmonious grouping of the emotions and morals you can see how it would have its charm, the Wedgwood in human nature? I wonder where Mrs. Mandel keeps her urn and her willow."
When Mela reported this result, Christine accused her of having mismanaged the whole business; she quarrelled with her, and they called each other names. Christine declared that she would not stay in Saratoga, and that if Mrs. Mandel did not go back to New York with her she should go alone. They returned the first week in September; but by that time Beaton had gone to see his people in Syracuse.
"I told her to ask him what he wanted here, and he said he didn't want anything, and he stopped coming. That's all. I did it myself." "Oh, you did, did you?" said the girl, scarcely less insolently than she had spoken to Mrs. Mandel. "I should like to know what you did it for? I'd like to know what made you think I wasn't able to take care of myself.
"Then what are we goun' to do?" demanded Mela, almost crossly. She was physically too amiable, she felt too well corporeally, ever to be quite cross. "She might 'a' knowed well known we couldn't 'a' come alone, in New York. I don't see why, we couldn't. I don't call it much of an invitation." "I suppose she thought you could come with your mother," Mrs. Mandel suggested.
Is he makin' up to Christine?" "I reckon he is. From Mely's talk, she's about crazy over the fellow. Don't you like him, Jacob?" "I don't know him, or what he is. He hasn't got any manners. Who brought him here? How'd he come to come, in the first place?" "Mr. Fulkerson brung him, I believe," said the old woman, patiently. "Fulkerson!" Dryfoos snorted. "Where's Mrs. Mandel, I should like to know?
Beaton, and I am sure you know just how much or how little you mean by coming here. You are either interested in one of these young girls or you are not. If you are, I have nothing more to say. If you are not " Mrs. Mandel continued to smile, but the smile had grown more perfunctory, and it had an icy gleam. Beaton looked at her with surprise that he gravely kept to himself.
Is he makin' up to Christine?" "I reckon he is. From Mely's talk, she's about crazy over the fellow. Don't you like him, Jacob?" "I don't know him, or what he is. He hasn't got any manners. Who brought him here? How'd he come to come, in the first place?" "Mr. Fulkerson brung him, I believe," said the old woman, patiently. "Fulkerson!" Dryfoos snorted. "Where's Mrs. Mandel, I should like to know?
Mandel he's done so much for her, you know; and she is such a well-balanced, well-preserved person, and so lady-like and correct " "Fulkerson had the word for her: academic. She's everything that instruction and discipline can make of a woman; but I shouldn't think they could make enough of her to be in love with." "Well, I don't know. The academic has its charm.
But if she did not know about Mrs. Mandel, Mrs. Mandel seemed to know about her. "Oh, well, do!" she said, with a sort of recognition of the propriety of her caution. "I hope you are feeling a little at home in New York. We heard so much of your trouble in getting a flat, from Mr. Fulkerson." "Well, a true Bostonian doesn't give up quite so soon," said Mrs. March.
Beaton, and I am sure you know just how much or how little you mean by coming here. You are either interested in one of these young girls or you are not. If you are, I have nothing more to say. If you are not " Mrs. Mandel continued to smile, but the smile had grown more perfunctory, and it had an icy gleam. Beaton looked at her with surprise that he gravely kept to himself.
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