At times, the mother
questioned the senator's motives, but he always seemed so kind and
fatherly that she spurned the thought as coming from the Evil One.
The senator as he left, put several bills in Mrs. Ricci's hand, saying,
"You and Rosie will find need of them for clothes for the daughter and
for other expenses."
Never was a girl happier than Rosie the morning she and her mother left
the Grand Central Depot for New England. Rarely, if ever, did a girl work
harder than Rosie at her studies. Her soul often had burned with ambition
for fame and for money so that she could assist her mother. The way was
now open and success was possible. At the sunset hour she often walked
with a friend among the historic elms on Boston Common and in the
beautiful flower gardens.
Often young men longed for her acquaintance, but they could never get the
consent of her pretty eyes. She was petite, her hair black, her eyes dark
brown, her lips ruby-red, and her nose and chin finely chiselled. She had
a cameo-like face and complexion of olive tint that told of the land of
vines and figs in sunny Italy. Her step was elastic, her manner vivacious
and confiding. Her dress was always tidy and stylish.
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