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Updated: June 28, 2025
She arose, and with trembling fingers dressed herself hastily, and stole softly down the stairs, and looked into the dining-room. Hush! father was asking a blessing. He returned thanks for dear Marcia's birthday, and asked that it should be a happy day for them all.
Gaylord in the family room where they now sat in unwonted companionship. "Well, Mr. Gaylord," said his wife, "I don't know as you can say but what Marcia's suited well enough." This was the first allusion they had made to the subject, but she let it take the argumentative form of her cogitations. "M-yes," sighed the Squire, in long, nasal assent, "most too well, if anything."
For the first time that night she looked at me as if she saw me me, Nicky Stretton, dark, fierce and dirty and not Dudley Wilbraham and the dead. My name in that voice of hers would have caught me at my heart, if I had dared to be thinking of her. But I was not. It had flashed through me that Marcia's door had been half open when we went into the kitchen, and that now it was shut!
But it wouldn't worry me if Livius should lose his head! For an aristocrat he has more than his share of undignified curiosity forever poking his sharp nose into other people's business. Marcia may have found him out. Let's hope!" At the foot of the marble stairway, in the hall below Marcia's apartment, Livius stood remonstrating, growing nervous.
"And I'm afraid that I forget one about as easily as the other." Marcia's eyes suffused themselves at this touch of self-analysis which, coming from Bartley, had its sadness; but she said nothing, and he was eager to escape and get back to their guest. He told her he should go out with Kinney, and that she was not to sit up, for they might be out late.
"Isn't it wonderful to be the first woman in the Garden of Paradise?" Miss Gore nodded carelessly. The girl was so radiant in her air of possession that I couldn't help speaking. "But you're not," I said. Marcia's narrow eyes regarded me coolly and then looked at Jerry inquiringly, and when she spoke her voice was almost too sweet. "Please don't rob us of our poor little halos, Mr.
But, like the other people, I have somehow felt, and you will understand why, that I ought to be your wife before I die. It chanced that a day or two before the ceremony, which was fixed to take place very shortly after the foregoing conversation, Marcia's rheumatism suddenly became acute.
He turned his head so that he might not look at it and moved stealthily around a stone wall toward the woods beyond the garden Marcia's woods, pine woods they were, their floor carpeted with brown needles where he and she had used to go and walk of an afternoon to the rocks by Sweetwater Spring, the source of the stream, they said, which Jerry had named the "blushful Hippocrene," the fountain of the Muses who met there to do Marcia, their goddess, honor.
I wish I had been Aunt Marcia's pet, or even half favorite. Business is my utter detestation, I admit. I must persuade Floyd to change about." "And that makes me think of the wonderful changes here. Why, Grandon Park is a perfect marvel of beauty, and I left it an almost wilderness. I should never have known the place. But the location is really magnificent.
He did not lift his eyes to the level of Marcia's, who in her gray dress stood there like a gray shadow, and did not stir or speak. "And you never had made up to the girl at all?" "No." "Kissed her, I suppose, now and then?" suggested the Squire. Bartley did not reply. "Flattered her up, and told how much you thought of her, occasionally?"
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