“You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. I sha'n't cry any more. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. Her disapproval was obvious enough. What beasts men are! I cannot typewrite, my three stories are still wandering round, two milliners have refused me as a lay figure because business was so bad. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. . He would never recognize me now. Mr. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. The ring's yours, and you're mine. Out of the beaten track, far from the trails of men! He relaxed. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy.
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