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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Do you want to know what keeps my life from being a vacuum?" I abruptly asked. "Of course I do!" "Well, then a little brown Boston terrier whom I call Dandy," I announced. He laughed as if it was a joke. "What nonsense! Your sister has told me quite a lot about you, Miss Vars, one time and another; that you write verse a little, for instance.
Laurent du Cros and Champsaur, in the valley of the Drac, provided with a temple, school, &c., principally through the liberality of Lord Monson; and Guillestre and Vars, provided with two temples, a parsonage, and a girls' school. A temple, with a residence for a pastor, has also of late years been provided at Briançon, with a meeting-place also at the village of Villeneuve.
Perhaps now," he continued, "seeing I'm such a failure as a Sherlock Holmes, you will be so kind as to tell me yourself who you are. Do you live here? I never saw you before. I'm sure you're a stranger. Where is your home, Miss Vars?" "Where is my home?" I repeated, and then paused an instant. Where indeed? "A wardrobe-trunk is my home, Mr. Jennings," I replied. "Oh!" he took it up.
There was divine service in the temple at half-past ten A.M., conducted by the regular pastor, M. Schell, and instruction and catechizing of the children in the afternoon. The pastor's regular work consists of two services at Guillestre and Vars on alternate Sundays, with Sunday-school and singing lesson; and on week days he gives religious instruction in the Guillestre school.
I picked up my suitcase, and stole out. No one was more surprised than I on the morning of the Fourth of July, when Ruth unexpectedly arrived from New York. We Vars were all at Edith's in Hilton, even to Tom and Elise, who had taken a cottage on the Cape for the summer and were able to run up and join us all for the holiday.
You think, Tom, you can frighten me, and conquer me, perhaps, by bullying. But you can't. Conditions are better for women than they used to be, anyhow, thank heaven, and for the courageous woman there's a chance to escape from just such masters of their fates as you Tom Vars, even though you are my brother. And I shall escape somehow, sometime. See if I don't.
"Loyal friends!" scoffed Mrs. Sewall. "Loyal friends indeed! And may I ask what loyal friend allows you to go about in your present distressing condition? You are hardly fit to be seen, Miss Vars." I flushed. "I'm sorry," I said. "Disregard of one's health is not admirable." "I'm being very careful," I assured Mrs. Sewall. "If you could but know the eggs I consume!" "Miss Vars," inquired Mrs.
Any one who can create is able to fill all the empty corners of his life. You know that as well as I do." I considered this new idea in silence for a moment. We turned in at Lucy's street. "How long shall you be here, Miss Vars?" asked Mr. Jennings. "And, seriously, may I call some evening?" How could I refuse such a friendly and straightforward request?
The demands upon my time are such that I require a secretary who can do more than add columns of figures, though that she must do too. She must in many cases be my brains, my tact, convey in my correspondence fine shades of feeling. It is a position requiring peculiar talent, Miss Vars, and one, I should say, which would be attractive to you.
Edith Vars, you'd sell your soul for society; and you'd sell me too! But you can't you can't! Let go my wrist. I'm sick of the whole miserable game. I'm sick of it. Let me go." "And I'm sick of it too," flung back Edith. "But I've got a daughter's future to think about, I'd have you know, as well as yours. I've worked hard to establish ourselves in this place, and I've succeeded too.
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