"I must say I liked the story."
"Ah, well! Young people, you know, Mr. Smith--But, bless me! I'm sure I
beg your pardon. I had forgotten you weren't a married man. Of course
you're one of the young people too, Mr. Smith."
"I don't think there's much of youth to choose between you and me, Mrs.
Bloomfield," said I, "if I may venture to say so. But I fear I do belong
to the young people, if a liking for extravagant stories, so long as they
mean well, you know--is to be the test of the classification. I fear I
have a depraved taste, that way. I don't mean in this particular instance,
though, Adela."
"I hope not," answered Adela, with a blushing smile, which I, at least,
could read, having had not merely the key to it, but the open door and
window as well, ever since I had seen the two standing together at the top
of the stair.
That night the weather broke. A slow thaw set in; and before many days
were over, islands of green began to appear amid the "wan water" of the
snow--to use a phrase common in Scotch ballads, though with a different
application.
Pages:
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223