Prev | Current Page 145 | Next

Reed, Myrtle, 1874-1911

"Old Rose and Silver"

"I'm so glad the Crosbys are going to
have one. I hope they'll take me often."
With the sure instinct of Primitive Woman, she had said the one thing
calculated to make Allison forget his momentary change of mood.
"I'm sorry I have none," he said. "'Romeo Romeo, wherefore art thou
Romeo?' How times have changed! The modern Lochinvar has a touring-car,
and some day you'll be eloping in the most up-to-date fashion."
"What makes you talk to me about him?" queried Isabel, with uplifted
eyes. "You know I don't like him."
"All right," he answered, good-naturedly. "I won't. I hope Aunt
Francesca won't be worried about you because we're so late in getting
back."
"I don't see why she should mind. Mamma never cares what I do. She's
often been away for weeks, lecturing, and I've been in the hotel alone."
He repressed the uncharitable comment that was upon his lips and
reverted to the subject of the play. "I'm glad you've enjoyed it. I
wanted you to have a good time."
"I've had the best time I ever had in my life," she responded, with
evident sincerity. "Isn't it wonderful what they can do with a room that
has only three sides?"
"It surely is.


Pages:
133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157