Ronald! You'd think he
had give himself dead away to her, an' was down on his knee-pans humble
as a 'Piscerpalian sayin' the Literny in Lent, grubbin' about among the
dust she treads on, to touch the hem o' her garment. Whereas, in some
way unbeknownst to me, an' prob'ly unbeknownst to him, he's touched her
pride, which is why she's so up in arms, not meanin' his--worse luck!
An' it would have all worked out right in the end, an' will yet, _if_
this new party that Radcliffe mentioned ain't Mr. Buttinsky, an' she
don't foller the dictates of her _art_ an' flirt with him too
outrageous, or else marry him to spite herself, which is what I mean to
pervent if I can, but which, of course, it may be I can't."
CHAPTER XIV
"Frank," said Mrs. Sherman one Sunday morning, some weeks later,
stopping her brother on his way to the door, "can you spare me a few
moments? I've something very important I want to discuss with you. I
want you to help me with suggestions and advice in a matter that very
closely concerns some one in whom I'm greatly interested.
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