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?©, Lyda Farrington

"We Ten Or, The Story of the Roses"

She pulled forward a chair,
completely barring the way to the table, and, seating herself, stirred
her chocolate languidly.
Miss Devereaux was all attention; she offered almost everything on the
table, and listened with the deepest interest while the diamond lady
talked loudly and impressively of _her_ last afternoon reception,--the
distinguished people who were present, and what the music and
refreshments cost. Then, suddenly remembering that she was "due at one
of 'Mrs. Judge' Somebody's receptions,--they were always _alagant_
affairs,"--the diamond lady put down her cup, from which she had barely
taken a sip or two, and with a bow, and what Phil calls "a galvanised
smile," sailed off to parts unknown.
"Such a charming woman!" murmured the goddess to Nannie.
Before Nannie could answer, there was a new claimant for
refreshments,--a slender, rather spare little woman this time, dressed
in a severely plain black gown; her hair was parted and pulled tightly
away from her face; her bonnet was a good deal plainer and uglier than
anything that nurse has ever had,--and she has rather distinguished
herself in that line. This little woman was evidently not used to
receptions and young goddesses.


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