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Updated: August 27, 2024
Mary put her arms through old Mr. Naylor's. "I don't mind, if you don't. But nobody else!" "Then you shall tell him the entire story at your leisure. Meanwhile I'll begin at the wrong end. I told you I'd made a picture of the hated cousins, of the heirs-at-law, those sorrowing chief mourners.
"You two people look to me somehow as if you'd got a secret between you." "Perhaps we have! Mr. Naylor's a man of honor, Doctor Mary; a man who appreciates a situation, a man you can trust." Beaumaroy seemed very gay and happy now, disembarrassed of a load, and buoyant alike in walk and in spirit. "What do you say to letting Mr. Naylor just him nobody else into our secret?"
Early in his experience he had learned that Naylor's optimism, though purely professional, entailed unpleasant consequences on the reporter who shared it and then betrayed some too generous trust; so he absolutely refused to admit that there was any basis for it now. "You know she won't talk to reporters," he protested.
Burying her nose and lips in a rose, she sniffed. "Poor dear girl! It's such a pity his father is a " "A farmer," said a sleepy voice behind the rosebush. Miss Naylor leaped. "Greta! How you startled me! A farmer that is an an agriculturalist!" "A farmer with vineyards he told us, and he is not ashamed. Why is it a pity, Miss Naylor?" Miss Naylor's lips looked very thin.
Naylor's motherliness, old Naylor's courtliness, Gertie's breathless concern and avid appetite for the fullest detail, everybody's desire to console and cheer, all these were at her service, all enlisted in the effort to make her forget, and live and laugh again. Her heart responded; she found herself becoming happy at a rate which made her positively ashamed.
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