Verne, and you my little rival, adieu until we meet again."
Her ladyship pressed the tips of her dainty fingers and playfully
threw a kiss to Marguerite as she leaned against the balustrade and
watched her visitor depart.
"What a sweet but sad face," thought the latter, as she was being
assisted into the grand old family coach with its richly-caparisoned
steeds and gay trappings.
"To Hyde Park, James," then leaning back amid the luxurious cushions
the almond-eyed beauty murmured "that girl has a tender spot in her
heart which all the pleasures and gaiety of a thousand worlds like
this can never heal. Ah, well we women must endure," and with the
last remark there arose a sad and weary look that would seem
strangely at variance the gay, sporting butterfly who talked and
chatted of airy nothings in Mrs. Verne's drawing-room.
And now to Marguerite. She has donned her tasteful gray walking
costume and accompanied by Muggins is on the way to Mrs. Arnold's
residence, not far distant.
"I am so glad you have come, Madge, I was just going to send for
you. My head has ached all morning. I can think of nothing but dear
papa. Just imagine him without a cent in the world, and at his age.
Pages:
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359