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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Mary Marston"


"Why not?--If I were to ask Mr.--"
"If you really wish it, ma'am, I will venture to go for half an
hour. There is no occasion to speak to Mr. Turnbull. Besides, it
is almost dinner-time."
"Do, then. I am sure you will eat a better dinner for having had
a little fresh air first. It is a lovely morning. We will drive
to the Roman camp on the top of Clover-down."
"I shall be ready in two minutes," said Mary, and ran from the
shop.
As she passed along the outside of his counter coming back, she
stopped and told Mr. Turnbull where she was going. Instead of
answering her, he turned himself toward Mrs. Redmain, and went
through a series of bows and smiles recognizant of favor, which
she did not choose to see. She turned and walked from the shop,
got into the brougham, and made room for Mary at her side.
But, although the drive was a lovely one, and the view from
either window delightful, and to Mary it was like getting out of
a tomb to leave the shop in the middle of the day, she saw little
of the sweet country on any side, so much occupied was she with
Hesper. Ere they stopped again at the shop-door, the two young
women were nearer being friends than Hesper had ever been with
any one. The sleepy heart in her was not yet dead, but capable
still of the pleasure of showing sweet condescension and gentle
patronage to one who admired her, and was herself agreeable.


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