Garrison's Finish : a romance of the race course by William Blair Morton Ferguson
page 61 of 173 (35%)
page 61 of 173 (35%)
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hostages to their friendship. They wished to show how much they cared
for one another by making us supremely miserable for life. Of course, I spent my life in arranging how you should look, if you ever came home--which I devoutly hoped you wouldn't. It wouldn't be so difficult, you see, if you happened to match my ideals. Then it would be a real love-feast, with parents' blessings and property thrown in to boot." "And then I turned up--a little, under-sized, nothingless pea, instead of the regular patented, double-action, stalwart Adonis of your imagination," added Garrison dryly. "How well you describe yourself!" said the girl admiringly. "It must be horrible!" he condoled half-cynically. "And of course you, too, were horribly disappointed?" she added, after a moment's pause, tapping her oxford with tennis-racket. Garrison turned and deliberately looked into her gray eyes. "Yes; I am--horribly," he lied calmly. "My ideal is the dark, quiet girl of the clinging type." "She wouldn't have much to cling to," sniffed the girl. "We'll be miserable together, then. Do you know, I almost hate you! I think I do. I'm quite sure I do." Garrison eyed her in silence, the smile on his lips. She returned the look, her face flushed. |
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