“That explains it, then!” exclaimed the vivacious young woman excitedly. “That must have been Mrs. Bennett we saw yesterday, Marion. She is really a beautiful woman, with magnificent golden hair and the dearest blue eyes! She’s a perfect love! Isn’t she, Marion?”
“She is, indeed,” answered the girl appealed to.
“Jonathan Edwards Bennett,” repeated one of the men who had listened to the Trumpet’s choice tid-bit. “He was in my class at Yale. A clever fellow, but restless. They used to say of him that he would be famous or a failure before he had been out in the world five years.”
“And has he been a success?” drawled the youth in the golf suit.
“Of course he has,” cried the vivacious young woman, “hasn’t he married a beautiful girl with golden hair and blue eyes? Surely, he could ask nothing better of life than that.”
Could Jonathan Edwards Bennett have heard these words he would have acknowledged that the vivacious young woman spoke the truth.
THE END.
Neely’s Popular Library.
Paper—Twenty-five Cents.