Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, October, 1877, Vol. XX. No. 118
she were at home. When she stepped presently out on the porch, where the gentlemen had gone to smoke, a soft black silk showing every line of her supple figure, glimpses of the roun
it, threw in a dash of liquor, poured him out a glass and sat
Miss Fleming," complained Judge Rhodes. "New York sucks in
to me," in her peculiar pathetic voice. "I left good friends there," with one of her bewilderin
ring his voice. "That was a delicate compliment, sending my por
ut the round-numbered cheque which he had sent her for it. In the mo
leming's pose and rounded figure w
, until the fact crept out from the judge that there was not an ?sthetic dogma nor a gallery in the world with which he was not familiar. Then to pottery, in
iss Fleming," with his mild, deprecating cough, "and a bit of Capo
emphatically. "Wher
ens have never been unpacked since I returned to th
o cracked pots? He has, as I may say, the future of Pennsylvania in his hand. When I think what he is doing for th
just as easily as the time-table on the new railway in Egypt. No wonder that he could tell you in a breath the percentage of orphans, deserted minors, children of vicious parents, in his own State, and the amount per capita required to civilize and Christianize them. As he talked of this matter his eyes became suffused with tears. The great Hom
asked Miss Fleming. "It is
ve not raised the funds," Mr. Van
n to be the savior of those dirty little wretches in the back alleys. But if a man had given h
avelled in Japan and the obscure corners of the earth in the flesh or in books. There was more than the wonted necessity upon her to establish sympathetic relations with this new man: she had never seen a finer presence: the beard and brow quite lifted his masculinity into ?sthetic regions; she caught glimpses, too, of an
river, as usual?"
l ever stay under a roof if they can help it. They ought to have a da
ange in her tone which made the ca
es
Washington: I did not
, with a stout wife and married son. He did not meet Miss F
uaintances?" he said abruptly. "
ay or dredged for oysters together, dirty and ragged and happy. There is not very much difference in our ages," seeing his l
the sacred rites in the Platonic friendships so much in vogue now-a-days among clever men and women. Mr. Van Ness offered his hand last, and Cornelia smiled cordially as she took it. But it was clammy and soft. She rubbed her fingers w
t. Then she went to the window. Mr. Neckart had left Jane inside, and, not joining the other
ress, with the palms pressed close. "Oh, B
her fingers and looked into her eyes; how her every thought and fancy had grown common and unclean through much usage; how she had dragged out
husks which the swine did eat," she said, leaving the windo