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Updated: June 2, 2025
Zora was prepared for this attitude, which she had resolved not to countenance. She had come, in all her bravery, to bring Emmy to her senses. Emmy should be brought. She left the bassinette and sat down near her sister and smiled indulgently. "My dearest child, if you were so-called 'advanced people' and held all sorts of outrageous views, I might understand you.
Mind you if you can persuade her; and that may be impossible." "Where is she now?" Miss Smith glanced out at the darkening landscape, and then at her watch. "I do not know; she's very late. She's given to wandering, but usually she is here before this time." "I saw her in town this afternoon," said Mrs. Vanderpool. "Zora? In town?" Miss Smith rose.
If you'd only go about Monte Carlo with an inscription 'Try Sypher's Cure! What an advertisement! I'd have you one done in diamonds! And how did you find it, Mr. Dix?" "I oh!" murmured Septimus. "I forgot about it last night and this morning I found I hadn't any brown boot polish I " "Used the cure?" cried Zora, aghast. "Yes," said Septimus, timidly.
"It is you that must tell me what has happened," said Zora earnestly. "I don't know. Septimus gave me to understand that the Cure had failed. He's never clear about anything in his own mind, and he's worse when he tries to explain it to others." "Septimus," said Sypher, "is one of the children of God." "But he's a little bit incoherent on earth," she rejoined, with a smile.
"Never mind, dear. We'll try to make you happier." Emmy submitted to the caress for a while and then freed herself gently. She did not reply. Not all the trying of Zora and all the Ladies Bountiful of Christendom could give her her heart's desire. Besides, Zora, with her large air of smiling dea ex machina was hopelessly out of tone with her mood. She picked up the furs. "How lovely. They're new.
"We must get married before Christmas, Zora," he presently avowed, not looking at her. He felt the basket pause and he glanced up. Her dark eyes were full upon him and he saw something in their depths that brought him to himself and made him realize his blunder. "Zora!" he stammered, "forgive me! Will you marry me?" She looked at him calmly with infinite compassion.
She saw neither Miss Taylor nor the long straight rows of desks and faces. She heard neither the drone of the spellers nor did she hear Miss Taylor say, "Zora!" She heard and saw none of this. She only heard the prattle of the birds in the wood, far down where the Silver Fleece would be planted.
What had passed between them neither he nor Zora would afterwards relate; but Wiggleswick spent the whole of that night and the following days in unremitting industry, so that the house became spick and span as his own well-remembered prison cells.
Slower and slower he ran, more and more the thoughts crowded his head. He thought of that first red night and the yelling and singing and wild dancing; he thought of Cresswell's bitter words; he thought of Zora telling how she stayed out nights; he thought of the little bower that he had built her in the cotton field.
Septimus did not count. "We never play," said Zora. "Neither do I," said Sypher. "The real way to enjoy Monte Carlo is to regard these rooms as non-existent. I wish they were." "Oh, don't say that," Sypher exclaimed quickly. "They are most useful. They have a wisely ordained purpose. They are the meeting-place of the world.
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