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Reed, Myrtle, 1874-1911

"Old Rose and Silver"

"And, if so, it's the only thing
that is. What of the gift of life?"
"Nothing to speak of," he responded with a cynicism wholly new to her.
"I wouldn't go back and live it over, would you?"
"No," she sighed, "I wouldn't. I don't believe anyone would, even the
happiest."
"Too much character development?"
"Yes," she admitted, with a shamefaced flush. "You'll have a chance to
see, now. It will be right under your nose."
"No," he said, with a certain sad emphasis which did not escape her; "it
won't. I shall be at a respectful distance."
"Why, Richard!" she cried, half rising from her chair; "what do you
mean? Aren't you going to live with them in the old home?"
The Colonel shook his head.
"Why?" she demanded.
The Colonel raised his hand to his forehead in a mock salute. "Orders,"
he said, briefly. "From headquarters."
"Has Allison--" she began, in astonishment, but he interrupted her.
"No." He inclined his head suggestively toward the house, and she
understood.
"The little brute," murmured Francesca. "Richard, believe me, I am
ashamed."
"Don't bother," he answered, kindly.


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