The Wheel of Life by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow
page 31 of 447 (06%)
page 31 of 447 (06%)
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Her yellow hair grew sparse and flat and streaked with gray, her
pink-rose face became over plump and mottled across the nose, and her mind turned soon as flat and unelastic as her body; but she was perfectly satisfied with the portion she had had from life, for, having weighed all things, she had come to regard the conventions as of most enduring worth. Now she rustled in with an emphatic announcement of stiff brocade, and enveloped the spectral Angela in an embrace of comfortable arms and bosom. Her unwieldy figure reminded Laura of a broad, low wall that has been freshly papered in a large flowered pattern. On her hands and bosom a number of fine emeralds flashed, for events had shown in the end that the impecunious young lover was not fated to dabble in stocks in vain. "Oh Angela, my poor dear, how are you?" she enquired. Angela released herself with a shrinking gesture and, turning away, sat down at the foot of the long couch. "I am the same--always the same," she answered in her cold, reserved voice. "You took your fresh air to-day, I hope?" "I went down in the yard as usual. Laura," she looked desperately around, "is that Rosa who has just come in?" As she paused a knock came at the door, and Laura opened it to admit Mrs. Payne--the eldest, the richest and the most eccentric of the sisters. From a long and varied association with men and manners Mrs. Payne had gathered a certain halo of experience, as of one who had ripened from mere acquaintance into a degree of positive intimacy with the world. She |
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