“Ah, don’t, don’t,” she deprecated. She raised her drooping head and flashed a reckless glance at him, half mirthful, half tragic.
“Oh, it’s dreadful to care so much for any man! Goodness knows what I’ll get to in seven years more!”
Mrs. Atwood’s Outer Raiment
Mrs. Atwood’s Outer Raiment
“HOW much will a new suit cost, Jo?” Mr. Atwood held his fingers reflectively on the rubber band of his pocketbook as he asked the question, and glanced as he did so at the round brunette face of his wife, which had suddenly become all flush and sparkle.
“Oh, Edward!”
“Well?”