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Updated: May 18, 2025
"For, of course, if Mother had lived I should have been pretty," she asserted calmly, "or interesting-looking, anyway. Mother would surely have managed it somehow; and I should have had a lot of beaux young men beaux I mean, like you. Father's friends are all so gray! Oh, of course, I shall marry some time," she continued evenly. "Probably I'm going to marry the British consul at Nunko-Nono.
"And reddish?" persisted little Eve Edgarton. "And longish? As long as ?" Illustratively with her hands she stretched to her full arm's length. "Yes, I think perhaps it is reddish," conceded her father. "But why?" "Oh nothing," mused little Eve Edgarton. "Only sometimes at night I dream about you and me landing at Nunko-Nono.
It isn't exactly, you know, like a bride moving fifty miles out from town somewhere," she explained painstakingly. "When a bride goes out to a place like Nunko-Nono, it isn't enough, you understand, that she takes just the things she needs. What she's got to take, you see, is everything under the sun that she ever may need!"
Oh, Eve Eve," he pleaded sharply, "you'll be so much better off out of the world! You've got infinitely too much money and infinitely too little self-conceit to be happy here! They would break your heart in a year! But at Nunko-Nono!" he cried eagerly. "Oh, Eve! Think of the peace of it! Just white beach, and a blue sea, and the long, low, endless horizon. And John will make you a garden!
"Only, Father," she articulated with inordinate distinctness, "you might just as well understand here and now, I won't budge one inch toward Nunko-Nono not one single solitary little inch toward Nunko-Nono unless at London, or Lisbon, or Odessa, or somewhere, you let me fill up all the trunks I want to with just plain pretties to take to Nunko-Nono!
"But I? I have to write it!" "But why do you have to write it?" gasped Barton. Languidly her heavy lashes shadowed down across her cheeks again. "It's for the British consul at Nunko-Nono," she said. "It's some notes he asked me to make for him in London this last spring." "But for mercy's sake do you like to write things like that?" insisted Barton. "Oh, no," drawled little Eve Edgarton.
"For a nice live little girl like you to be packed off like so much baggage to marry some great gray-bearded clout who hasn't got an idea in his head except except " squintingly he stared down at the scattered sheets on the floor "except 'Amphichelydia," he asserted with some feeling. "Yes isn't it?" sighed little Eve Edgarton. "For Heaven's sake!" said Barton. "Where is Nunko-Nono?"
"Surely nothing has happened to make you change your mind about Nunko-Nono? And good old John Ellbertson?" "Oh no Father," said little Eve Edgarton. Indolently she withdrew her eyes from her father's and stared off Nunko-Nonoward in a hazy, geographical sort of a dream. "Good old John Ellbertson good old John Ellbertson," she began to croon very softly to herself. "Good old John Ellbertson.
"Why why, what do you mean?" stammered Barton. "What do I mean?" quizzed little Eve Edgarton. "Why, I mean that just once before I go off to Nunko-Nono I'd like to be attractive!" "Attractive?" stammered Barton helplessly. With all the desperate, indomitable frankness of a child, the girl's chin thrust itself forward. "I could be attractive!" she said. "I could! I know I could!
"Nunko-Nono?" whispered little Eve Edgarton. "Where is it? Why, it's an island! In an ocean, you know! Rather a hot green island! In rather a hot blue-green ocean! Lots of green palms, you know, and rank, rough, green grass and green bugs and green butterflies and green snakes. And a great crawling, crunching collar of white sand and hermit-crabs all around it.
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