Mae Madden by Mary Murdoch Mason
page 64 of 138 (46%)
page 64 of 138 (46%)
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against the floor, while Norman fanned her with his handkerchief.
This time Bero and the strange, veiled lady and Miss Hopkins and every other confusing thought floated off, and left them quite happy for--well--say for ten minutes. And ten minutes consecutive enjoyment is worth waiting for, old and cynical people say. * * * * * The next morning brought back all her troubles, with variations and complications, on account of some more misunderstood words. "I think," said Mae, as she paused to blot the tenth page of a home letter, "that likes and dislikes are very similar, don't you, Edith?" Then, as Edith did not reply, she glanced up, and saw that her friend's chair was occupied by Norman Mann. He looked up also and smiled. "I am not Edith, you see, but I am interested in your theory all the same. Only, as I am a man, I shall require you to show up your reasons." "Well, I find that people who affect me very intensely either way, I always feel intuitively acquainted with. I know what they will think and how they will act under given conditions, and I believe we are driven into friendship or strong dislikes more by the force of circumstances than by--" "Elective affinities or any of that nonsense," suggested Norman Mann. |
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