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Updated: June 3, 2025
Had she not done so her sister would have gone to her, and begged and prayed, as such a sweet girl might, for the confidence of Pauline. Verena had to get into bed feeling lonely and unhappy. Just as she was doing so she heard a firm step walking down the corridor. A hand turned the handle of Pauline's door, and Verena heard Pen's voice say: "It's me, Paulie. It's me. Let me in, Paulie."
Pauline's father and brother, both weakly degenerates, could nevertheless boast of a lineage not inconsiderable for older lands, of possessions identified with the same, such as portraits and books and furniture, of connexions through marriage with the law and the militia, and, above all, of having lived on their land for very many years without doing anything, most distinguished trait of all.
Could it be that she, Pauline, had been too willful and headstrong with Harry? If so, was it possible that the keen edge of his adoration was wearing dull? Pauline had just succeeded in stamping these unpleasant questions deep down into the subconscious parts of her mind when the young man whisked up in the runabout. Pauline's wrath melted rapidly.
She carried herself with a pretty dignity, but when her eyes met Pauline's, she looked as if she would smile on the slightest provocation. Pauline promptly gave her the provocation. "Good evening, Miss Cameron," she called blithely. "Won't you please stop a few moments and look me over? I want to see if you think me a likely person for a summer chum." Ada Cameron did more than smile.
She said she had wanted an education; that she knew you had been very kind; hut she never dreamed of taking Miss Pauline's place in your house.
Pauline in the tale exercised a similar influence upon the count. What we know of Emilie Ludwig from without agrees likewise with the picture of Pauline. Pauline's father suggests Emilie's father.... The greatest weight will be laid upon the fact that we possess in this work a poetic glorification of Otto Ludwig's love happiness in Triebischtal. The rural life is reproduced in every detail."
Lynn had long since composed her tale and had fallen to playing a fairy drama at the end of her bench with bits of moss and white pebbles from the floor. Max had tumbled twice through a hole in the lattice roof, and had on each occasion blotted Pauline's precious MS by the precipitation of his whole body upon it.
Intellectually they were not equals either. Pauline's mind was almost purely receptive and her range of inquiry limited indeed. Zulma's mind was buoyant with spontaneity, and there was a quality of aggressive origination in it which scattered all conventionalities as splinters before it.
No matter what I've done, God knows I love you, Polly." Pauline's face was pale. Her hands, in her lap, were gripping her little handkerchief. "You don't say that, too you don't say 'never'?" She raised her eyes to his and their look thrilled through and through him. "Yes, John, I say 'never' I'll NEVER give you up."
Then we went to the shoemaker, and Pauline told him all about the widower bootmaker, and of her scruples about having boots made by any one else. The bootmaker evidently thought that a foot like Pauline's was worthy of a good boot and Pauline said there were occasions on which one had to sink one's own feelings. She was scandalized at London prices, and told the man so.
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