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Warren was moodily silent, and when they came to the hotel he drew up at the curb and nodded to Bernice to precede him out. Roberta's car emptied a laughing crowd into the shop, which presented two bold plate-glass windows to the street. Bernice stood on the curb and looked at the sign, Sevier Barber-Shop.
One can see that he's going to go right on now and make himself a man worth anybody's while. He's that now, but he's going to be more." "I don't see how you can tell so much from hearing him make a few foolish remarks about some roses!" Roberta's face was carefully averted. "Oh, it wasn't what he said, it's what he is! It shows in his face.
Mother and Peter and Phyllis were standing in a row at the end of the table. The shutters were shut and there were twelve candles on the table, one for each of Roberta's years. The table was covered with a sort of pattern of flowers, and at Roberta's place was a thick wreath of forget-me-nots and several most interesting little packages.
Roberta's hat was crooked, and the elastic seemed tighter than usual. Phyllis's shoe-laces had come undone. "Come," said Mother, "we've got to walk. There aren't any cabs here." The walk was dark and muddy. The children stumbled a little on the rough road, and once Phyllis absently fell into a puddle, and was picked up damp and unhappy. There were no gas-lamps on the road, and the road was uphill.
"I don't believe that will make a bit of difference, and anyway Miss Stuart said I hadn't the least chance of getting on this year." "Then," returned Betty cheerfully, "you'll just have to make the best of it where you are. Some of the Chapin house freshmen are dear. I love that cunning little Sara Westervelt." "Isn't she pretty?" Roberta's drawl was almost enthusiastic.
If Mr Croft had become convinced that he ought to retire from this contest, and had done so, and Roberta had been informed of it, that would explain everything that had happened. Roberta's state of mind, after she had had the talk in the parlor with Junius, and her hurried departure, without taking the slightest notice of either of the gentlemen, was quite natural.
Then she heard Maurice Roberta's voice saying, "Let's go farther down the slope." She went to the door of the arbor and looked out. As she had suspected, Maurice's companion was the girl she had encountered in the cemetery, Rosalind carried her hat in her hand, and as they crossed an open space the sunshine turned her hair to gold. Celia went back to her work.
A prim, stuff gown, hair parted in the middle and drawn smoothly away" his glance wandered from Roberta's ivory neck to the dusky masses of her hair "spectacles, more than likely with steel bows. And a manner ye gods the manner! How we were impressed by it! Well, well! Fine women they were and true to their profession.
Miss Roberta's father was a man whose mind and time were entirely given up to railroads; and although he nominally lived in New York, he was, for the greater part of the year, engaged in endeavors to forward his interests somewhere west of the Mississippi. Two or three months of the winter were generally spent in his city home.
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