"Marguerite Verne, am I to attribute that gaze to fond admiration or
pertinent curiosity?" cried Edith, going up to her friend and
playfully shaking her by the shoulders.
"To neither, Edith," said Marguerite, almost sadly, "but to a worse
trait in my character--to jealousy," and the short sigh fell faintly
upon Edith's quick and acute ear.
"To jealousy, you minx," cried the latter, who had a habit of
repeating the speaker's words, which, in many cases, gave more
effect to her arguments.
"To jealousy, indeed. Is it because I have the audacity to address
your countryman, 'whose way of life is fallen into the sere, and
yellow leaf'," replied she, her eyes sparkling with animation and
keen enjoyment.
"Thank you for the quotation, Edith," said Marguerite, running
her small, delicate fingers through the meshes of her friend's
golden-brown hair.
The reply was interrupted by an exclamation of the New Brunswicker.
"Miss Verne I presume you have read both editorials. Is it not
amusing how each goes for the other."
"Yes, Mr. Metcalfe, but I must confess that I am somewhat like a
lady whom I once heard say, 'Well, dear me, I think everything in
the _Telegraph_ is all gospel until I take up the _Sun_ and it
upsets every speck of belief as fast as it went up.
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