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Oh, truly Phyllis, it doesn't make a bit of difference in our love for you." "How did Belle find it out, and why should they think Father is dishonest even if Rogers is?" I asked, still as cold as ice though my head seemed to be on fire. "That is what is nearly killing Tony," answered Roxanne, with a sob beginning to come in her voice; but she still held on to me tight, as stiff as I was.
Through all my misery I ask myself if any girl in the whole wide world ever had a friend like Roxanne Byrd? And as if having Roxanne hold me in both arms and love me beyond my wildest expectations was not enough, what should happen to me? The Idol came around the bush full of blooms where we stood, and did likewise.
And as Roxanne looked out at us over the dancing Lovelace Peyton that was the first time I had ever seen her face without its dimple on the left side of her chin, or her head down out of the rosy cloud. "It always happens just this way, Roxy," said Belle in a reproving tone of voice. "You promised to begin to get ready last night, so as not to delay anything or anybody.
Roxanne found his sympathy welcome there was some quality of suffering in the man, some inherent pitifulness that made her comfortable when he was near. Roxanne's nature had suddenly deepened. She felt sometimes that with Jeffrey she was losing her children also, those children that now most of all she needed and should have had.
Most of the birds had gone only a sparrow that had built itself a nest on the cornice of a pillar kept up an intermittent cheeping varied by occasional fluttering sallies overhead. Roxanne moved her chair to where she could watch him and her mind idled drowsily on the bosom of the afternoon. Harry Cromwell was coming out from Chicago to dinner.
Roxanne had left the game early and taken to perambulation; she wandered into the pantry and found herself some grape juice beer gave her a headache and then passed from table to table, looking over shoulders at the hands, keeping an eye on Jeffrey and being pleasantly unexcited and content.
"Oh, Phyllis, don't look like that," she exclaimed as she drew me through the gate and behind the big lilac bush that is full of purple blooms. "It doesn't make one bit of difference to me, and I love you just the same. Who told you?" "Belle," I answered, trying to keep my face and voice steady. "Who found it out, Roxanne?" "Oh, Tony scouted it all out, though he didn't mean to.
The plain one was really lovely, but I knew the other would suit Belle better. When Roxanne tried on the plain one, her lovely dark eyes just sparkled, and I could see how she loved it; but I had had my experience with the Byrds' pride and I didn't even offer it to her. My self-denial brought its reward. There were two little beauty pins just alike with small pearls set along the bar.
Cromwell, attired in a wrapper of pink and black, opened the door. Her hair was yellow, heightened, Roxanne imagined by a dash of peroxide in the rinsing water every week. Her eyes were a thin waxen blue she was pretty and too consciously graceful.
Her cordiality was strident and intimate, hostility melted so quickly to hospitality that it seemed they were both merely in the face and voice never touching nor touched by the deep core of egotism beneath. But to Roxanne these things were secondary; her eyes were caught and held in uncanny fascination by the wrapper. It was vilely unclean.
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