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Updated: June 4, 2025
"Don't tell your friends," she laughed. "Trust me." "But I don't. I don't trust any of you." "You are a tease. Roselle, it's so tophole to see you again; let me kiss you good morning." She took the cigarette from her mouth to return his kiss; she was bright-eyed and hilarious.
Elim was standing at the stern he had conceived it his duty to stay as far away from Rosemary Roselle as her wish plainly indicated; but, in this irrelated phase of living, he gradually lost his sense of responsibility and restrained conduct. He wanted extravagantly to be near Rosemary, to be where he could see her clearly. Perhaps, but this was unlikely, she would speak to him.
But a fellow with three hundred a year and any commission his smartness could make, all just for mere pocket-money, was in a different boat altogether. The sums he staked at bridge with Roselle and her party on those winter afternoons in mid-Atlantic used to keep the household at No. 30, Welham Mansions for a week.
Roselle became more than ever desirable, as he imagined her, sitting in that shaded tea room, her fur coat opened and thrown back to show the fragile corsage underneath. She was romance; the fairy tale, which he had read and mislaid, found again. Putting his hand up, he pulled out his wife's letter, and read it again cursorily before casting it into the wastepaper basket. How dull it was!
The haze within deepened; he could see through the window the tops of the maples they held a green sheen as if in promise of the leaves to follow. The robin whistled faint and clear. Possibly she danced. Carried away on the gracious flood of the afternoon, he wondered what Rosemary Roselle looked like.
"Only temporarily of course. I'm going round the hotels to-day I shall get plenty of entertaining to do. When I'm tired of this, I shall move on." "Why not let our moving on coincide?" It was what, vaguely, in her mind, Roselle meant to do.
"Marie " "What, dear?" asked his wife. Again he fidgeted. "When Miss Dates mentions being in New York " he began. "And Chicago and all through Canada from Montreal to the West," said Roselle, continuing upon the breakneck course she seemed to have chosen in a moment.
Indy had arranged a place with the most obtainable comfort for Rosemary Roselle; she sat with her back against the mast, gazing toward the bank, stealing backward, at the darkening trees moving in solemn procession. After the convulsed and burning city, the uproar of guns and clash of conflict, the quiet progress of the sloop was incredibly peaceful and withdrawn.
"I hope I shouldn't stare at any woman because I knew her. As a matter of fact, I believe I know who she is; she's an actress; bound to succeed if she takes the right line, I should think. Just now she's got six lines to speak in that new piece of Mutro's. You know what's it called?" "What's her name?" "Roselle Dates, I think." Osborn looked at his wife solicitously.
It wouldn't be safe to leave Rosemary Roselle alone here with Indy. He recalled the threat of the black pomposity he had driven from the house it was possible that there were others, banded, and that they would return. It was clear to him that he must stay until its head reappeared, order had been reestablished or, if he went out, take the girl with him.
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