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Summer by Edith Wharton
page 62 of 198 (31%)
either I thought I had better drive over and take a look--though I'm
sure," he added, turning his friendly spectacles on the young man, "that
no one could be more competent--but of course this spot has its peculiar
sanctity!"

"I hope a little fresh air won't desecrate it," Harney laughingly
rejoined; and they walked to the other end of the library while he set
forth his idea to the Rector.

Mr. Miles had greeted the two girls with his usual friendliness, but
Charity saw that he was occupied with other things, and she presently
became aware, by the scraps of conversation drifting over to her, that
he was still under the charm of his visit to Springfield, which appeared
to have been full of agreeable incidents.

"Ah, the Coopersons... yes, you know them, of course," she heard. "That's
a fine old house! And Ned Cooperson has collected some really remarkable
impressionist pictures...." The names he cited were unknown to Charity.
"Yes; yes; the Schaefer quartette played at Lyric Hall on Saturday
evening; and on Monday I had the privilege of hearing them again at the
Towers. Beautifully done... Bach and Beethoven... a lawn-party
first... I saw Miss Balch several times, by the way... looking extremely
handsome...."

Charity dropped her pencil and forgot to listen to the Targatt girl's
sing-song. Why had Mr. Miles suddenly brought up Annabel Balch's name?

"Oh, really?" she heard Harney rejoin; and, raising his stick, he
pursued: "You see, my plan is to move these shelves away, and open a
round window in this wall, on the axis of the one under the pediment."
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