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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"Bab: a Sub-Deb"

I refused, however, as if I cannot give my own money to the
Heathen, I will give none. Mother turned pale, and the man with the
plate gave me a black look. What can he know of my reasons?
Beresford lunched with us, and as I discouraged him entirely, he was
very atentive to Sis. Mother is planing a big Wedding, and I found Sis
in the store room yesterday looking up mother's wedding veil.
No old stuff for me.
I guess Beresford is trying to forget that he kissed my hand the other
night, for he called me "Little Miss Barbara" today, meaning little in
the sense of young. I gave him a stern glanse.
"I am not any littler than the other night," I observed.
"That was merely an afectionate diminutive," he said, looking
uncomfortable.
"If you don't mind," I said coldly, "you might do as you have
hertofore--reserve your afectionate advances until we are alone."
"Barbara!" mother said. And began quickly to talk about a Lady Somthing
or other we'd met on a train in Switzerland. Because--they can talk
until they are black in the face, dear Dairy, but it is true we do not
know any of the British Nobilaty, except the aforementioned and the man
who comes once a year with flavering extracts, who says he is the third
son of a Barronet.
Every one being out this afternoon, I suddenly had an inspiration, and
sent for Carter Brooks. I then put my hair up and put on my blue silk,
because while I do not beleive in Woman using her femanine charm when
talking busness, I do beleive that she should look her best under any
and all circumstances.


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