The Trumpeter Swan by Temple Bailey
page 38 of 361 (10%)
page 38 of 361 (10%)
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"He is and he isn't----"
"You might make yourself a little clearer, Randolph," said the Judge. "He is happy because France in summer is a pleasant sort of Paradise--with the cabbages stuck up on the brown hillsides like rosettes--and the minnows flashing in the little brooks and the old mills turning--and he isn't happy--because he is homesick." Randy raised himself on his elbow and smiled at his listening audience--and as he smiled he was aware of a change in Mary Flippin. The brooding look was gone. She was leaning forward, lips parted--"Then you think that he is--homesick?" "I don't _think_. I know. Why, over there, my bones actually ached for Virginia." The Judge raised his coffee cup. "Virginia, God bless her," he murmured, and drank it down! The Flippins moved on presently--the slender mulatto trailing after them. "If the Flippins don't send that Daisy back to Washington," Mrs. Paine remarked, "she'll spoil all the negroes on the place." Mrs. Beaufort agreed, "I don't know what we are coming to. Did you see her high heels and tight skirt?" "Once upon a time," the Judge declaimed, "black wenches like that wore |
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