The Flyers by George Barr McCutcheon
page 7 of 96 (07%)
page 7 of 96 (07%)
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"Well, you just try him, that's all," remarked the young wife coldly, rising and moving away, a touch of red in her cheeks. "I will," he sang out genially, as he crossed his legs and stretched his feet out to the fire. She looked back with a mirthless smile on her lips. The man at the piano struck up the insidious "La Mattchiche," suggestive of the Bal Tabarin and other Fourteenth of July devotions. "Don't play that, Barkley," complained the big man, as every one began beating time to the fascinating air. "I'm trying to forget Paris." "Can you ever forget that night in Maxim's---" began Mrs. Scudaway. "I recall the next day more vividly," he interrupted. "Changing the subject," inserted the amiable bore, his moon-face beaming, "I see that the Thursdales have opened their place across the ravine. Isn't it rather early for them to leave town for the summer?" "They come out every year about this time." "Lot of people will be opening their places next week. I saw Mrs. Gorgus to-day. She says they're putting her house in shape---" "Impossible!" cried Mrs. Tanner. "It hasn't any shape." "The only thing that could put the Gorgus house in shape is an |
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