We
shall take a walk, as I have much to tell her.
6 P. M. What an afternoon! How shall I write it? This is a Milestone in
my Life.
I have met him at last. Nay, more. I have been in his dressing room,
conversing as though acustomed to such things all my life. I have
conceled under the mattress a real photograph of him, beneath which he
has written, "Yours always, Adrian Egleston."
I am writing in bed, as the room is chilley--or I am--and by putting out
my hand I can touch His pictured likeness.
Jane came around for me this afternoon, and mother consented to a walk.
I did not have a chance to take Sis's pink hat, as she keeps her door
locked now when not in her room. Which is rediculous, because I am not
her tipe, and her things do not suit me very well anyhow. And I have
never borowed anything but gloves and handkercheifs, except Maidie's
dress and the hat.
She had, however, not locked her bathroom, and finding a bunch of
violets in the washbowl I put them on. It does not hurt violets to wear
them, and anyhow I knew Carter Brooks had sent them and she ought to
wear only Beresford's flowers if she means to marry him.
Jane at once remarked that I looked changed.
"Naturaly," I said, in a BLASE maner.
"If I didn't know you, Bab," she observed, "I would say that you are
rouged."
I became very stiff and distant at that. For Jane, although my best
friend, had no right to be suspicous of me.
"How do I look changed?" I demanded.
"I don't know.
Pages:
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158