A Foregone Conclusion by William Dean Howells
page 86 of 230 (37%)
page 86 of 230 (37%)
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meant, and couldn't imagine that we were inspired by this rascally
little villa to sigh longingly over the wicked past." "Excuse me," interrupted Florida, with a touch of trouble in her proud manner, "I'm not sighing over it, for one, and I don't want it back. I'm glad that I'm American and that there is no past for me. I can't understand how you and Don Ippolito can speak so tolerantly of what no one can respect," she added, in almost an aggrieved tone. If Miss Vervain wanted to turn the talk upon Don Ippolito, Ferris by no means did; he had had enough of that subject yesterday; he got as lightly away from it as he could. "Oh, Don Ippolito's a pagan, I tell you; and I'm a painter, and the rococo is my weakness. I wish I could paint it, but I can't; I'm a hundred years too late. I couldn't even paint myself in the act of sentimentalizing it." While he talked, he had been making a few lines in a small pocket sketch-book, with a furtive glance or two at Florida. When they returned to the boat, he busied himself again with the book, and presently he handed it to Mrs. Vervain. "Why, it's Florida!" cried the lady. "How very nicely you do sketch, Mr. Ferris." "Thanks, Mrs. Vervain; you're always flattering me." "No, but seriously. I _wish_ that I had paid more attention to my drawing when I was a girl. And now, Florida--she won't touch a pencil. |
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