United States or United Arab Emirates ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
It was after one o'clock when they came slowly down the hill, and let themselves silently into the shadowy garden. Martie fled noiselessly past the streak of light under Lydia's door, gained her own room, and blinked at her lighted gas. The mirror showed her a pale, exalted face, with glittering blue eyes under loosened bronze hair. She was cold, excited, tired, and ecstatic.
"Or if I had married Rodney Parker, Sally?" Martie added steadily. "Well " The colour flew to Sally's face. "As it was," she went on a little hurriedly, "I just couldn't bear to go on and on, it made me desperate!
"That's rather pretty!" he said in a suffocating voice. Suddenly he came back, and sat close beside her; his face was pale. "Martie," he said pitifully, "it's dangerous for you you're not strong, and if you if you die, you know You look pale now, and you're so thin. I don't know anything about it, but I wish it was over!" Tears sprang to Martie's eyes, but they were tears of exquisite joy.
Fifteen minutes later they met again, still beaming, to cross under the damp, icy shadow of the boardwalk, and come out, fairly dancing with high spirits, upon the long, hot curve of the beach. The delicious touch of warm sand under her stockinged feet, the sunlight beating upon her glittering hair, Martie would run down the shore to the first wheeling shallows of the Atlantic.
Tell him that people feel it OUGHT to be public property, and then, when he agrees, whip some sort of paper out of your pocket, and have him sign it then and there!" Clifford Frost was not quick of thought, but he was shrewd, and his smile now was compounded of admiration for the scheme and the schemer alike. "I declare you're quite a business woman, Martie!" he said.
But that was not to be. Wallace was dead, and those who gathered about Martie wondered that she wept for her husband more than for her child. Wept for the wasted life, perhaps, and for the needless suffering and sorrow. But even in the first hours of her widowhood Martie's heart knew a deep and passionate relief.
"Always motherly!" he said, a smile on the strange mouth, but no corresponding smile in the faunlike eyes. Wallace arrived in a bad mood, as Martie instantly perceived. But Adele, radiant in a new hat, was prettily concerned for his cold and fatigue, and they were quickly escorted to a table near the fountain, and supplied with cocktails.
"He's seemed to admire our Mart in a brotherly sort of way since the very beginning," Lydia explained, anxious as usual to say the kind thing, and succeeding as usual in saying the one thing that could hurt and annoy. "He's quite a boy for the girls, but we think our Martie is too sensible to take him seriously, yet awhile!" And Lydia gave her sister a smile full of sweet significance.
Pa had asked Sally if she ever heard of her sister; had said that Mary Hawkes was like her Aunt Martie, "the cunningest baby of them all." Wild with hope, Sally had written the beloved sister. It was as if all these years of absence had been years of banishment to Sally. Martie recognized the unchanging Monroe standard. She got Sally's letter now, and re-read it.
An uncontrollable smile twitched at her mouth, she recommenced her game briskly. Her heart was dancing. "Lissun; do you suppose Ma would ever let us have a party here?" Martie presently ventured. Sally pursed her lips and shook a doubtful head. "Oh, but, Sally, I don't mean a real party, of course. Just about twenty " Martie began. "Lemonade and cake?" Sally supplied.
Word Of The Day