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Updated: June 28, 2025
Halleck made from time to time a little murmur of satisfaction in Marcia's loyalty, and then sank back into the meek silence that she only emerged from to propose more tea to some one, or to direct Cyrus about offering this dish or that. After they rose she took Marcia about, to show her the house, ending with the room which Bartley had when he visited there.
But everybody knows, and he picks slaves for his ministers consider that vile beast Cleander, whom even the rabble refused to endure another day. I don't see that Marcia's influence amounts to much." "But Cleander was executed finally. You are in a glum mood, Sextus. What has happened to upset you?" "It is the nothing that has happened.
I dare say it isn't the first time Ben Halleck has taken a fellow home in a hack." Bartley got so much comfort from the conjecture he had thrown out for Marcia's advantage, that he felt a sort of self-approval in the fact with which he followed it up. "And there's this consolation about it, if there isn't any other: that it wouldn't have happened now, if it had ever happened before."
"Simple!" Mrs. Oldham's mirth was high and satiric. "Isn't that like a man? Simple is the last word to be applied to Marcia's frocks, Mr. Hayden. It's a good thing, as I often tell her, that her father left us so well provided for." The lovely happiness vanished from Marcia's eyes.
The Morganstein table was at the farther end of the dining-room, but Frederic, who was watching the door when the young women entered, at once noticed the violets at Mrs. Weatherbee's belt. "Must have been sent from Seattle on that last eastbound," he commented, frowning. "Say, Marcia, why didn't you remind me to order some flowers from town?" Marcia's calculating eyes followed his gaze.
Marcia's word was law to him, even her tone or look. She had wheedled him into lavishing on her flowers, perfumery, jewels, an incredibly varied and costly wardrobe, maids, masseuses, bathgirls, a mob of waiters, cooks, doorkeepers, litter-bearers and what not and the most costly equipages. "He groaned, but was too infatuated to deny her anything.
I wouldn't want to stay around this beach after what happened at the Council Fire to-night." They never heard Marcia's answer to that question, for in the darkness, Gladys herself, shaking with anger, rose and confronted them. "You bet I'm going to stay!" she declared, furiously. "And I'll get even with you, Dolly Ransom, and your nasty old Miss Mercer, and the whole crew of you!
Everyone wondered why they had not thought before of such wonderful summer plans. Mrs. Westley would go with Tibby to Cousin Marcia's at Ocean Point in Maine "quiet enough there"; Graham was going to a boys' camp in Vermont, and Isobel and Gyp could divide their time between Sunnyside and Cobble. "We are not consulting Mrs. Travis," laughed Mrs. Westley.
Then his face took on an expression, first of furrowed surprise and then of gratified vanity, an expression that brought the hot blush to Marcia's cheek, even while she struggled to restrain her contemptuous mirth. His manner changed at once to one of insinuating gallantry, which she hastened to check before he should commit himself.
"I should enjoy one made for me quite as well," rejoins Gertrude, who is always annoyed by Marcia's assumptions of or longings for manhood. "What a lucky girl you are, or will be if Floyd's plans come out right," and Marcia nods to Violet. "Only I should hate all that wretched waiting!" "How long must I wait?" There is a lurking smile in Violet's brown eyes.
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