Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 22, 2025
The words were simplicity's self, like all inspired words, yet they brought the colour to Martie's face, and a yearning pain to her heart. Youth and love in all their first gold glory were captured here, and something of youth and glory seemed to flood the Library throughout the quiet winter afternoon.
"Fine!" she assured him, laying her hand over his. They remained so for a full minute, Wallace staring gloomily at nothing, Martie's eyes idly roving about the room. Then the man reached for a section of the paper, glanced at it indifferently, and flung it aside. "There wasn't any rehearsal this morning," he observed after a pause.
Len and Sally were married and gone, dear Ma was gone, and Belle had married, too; a tall gaunt woman called Pauline was in her place. But these things might all have transpired without touching Martie's own life directly. She might still, in many ways, have been the dreaming, ambitious, helpless girl of seven years ago.
Martie suddenly sprang up. "Well, I'm going to see Mrs. Cluett!" "I'll go, too," said Sally, "and we'll stop at the express office and tell Joe!" Mrs. Cluett was alone with her children when the callers went in, and even Martie's sensitive heart could have asked no warmer reception of her plan.
Joe was a mighty blond giant, only Martie's age, and younger, except in inches and in sinews, than his years. He had a sweet, simple face, rough, yellow hair, and hairy, red, clumsy hands. A greater contrast to gentle little Sally, with her timid brown eyes and the bloodless quiet of manner that was like her mother and like Lydia, could hardly have been imagined. "Where've you been?" Martie asked.
Martie, with deathly weakness sweeping over her, smiled, and spoke to her. The baby eyed her curiously, but she was not afraid. Martie picked her up, and stood there holding her, while the knife turned and twisted in her heart. After a while she wrapped a blanket about Mary, and carried her downstairs. Sally saw that Martie's face was ashen, and she knew why. Lydia saw nothing.
He glanced about; his face brightened. "I know! There's a set of five rooms just finished by our decorator on the fourth floor; we'll go there!" "But, John truly I haven't but a minute!" Martie protested. He did not hear her. He touched the elevator bell, and they went upstairs. The furnished suite was unbelievably lovely to Martie's unaccustomed eyes.
The sense of time passing, of opportunities unseen and ungrasped, might well make Martie irritable, restless, and reckless. Happiness and achievement were to be bought, but she knew not with what coinage. To-day the darkness had been shot by a gleam of living light. Through Rodney Parker's casual gallantries Martie's eyes looked into a new world.
Len's wife sank into a neighbouring chair, to express worried hopes that the March baby would be a boy, a male in the Monroe line at last. Rose fluttered near, with pleasant plans for a dinner party. Martie's thought were with a slim, dark-blue book, safe in her bureau drawer. She wrote John immediately.
I used to think Lyd was the loveliest thing in creation in that dress!" Sally was flushed and dimpling; she was not listening. "Mart! I think it's the most exciting thing ! Shall you tell Teddy?" "Sally, I don't dare." A shadow fell across Martie's bright face. In these days she was wistfully tender and gentle with her son.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking