Prue and I by George William Curtis
page 34 of 157 (21%)
page 34 of 157 (21%)
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He sat lost in thought. "It's nearly post-time, sir," said the clerk. Mr. Bourne did not heed him. He was still musing; and I turned to go, wishing him good morning. When I had nearly reached the door, he called me back, saying, as if continuing his remarks-- "It is strange that you, of all men, should come to ask me this question. If I envy any man, it is you, for I sincerely assure you that I supposed you lived altogether upon your Spanish estates. I once thought I knew the way to mine. I gave directions for furnishing them, and ordered bridal bouquets, which were never used, but I suppose they are there still." He paused a moment, then said slowly--"How is your wife?" I told him that Prue was well--that she was always remarkably well. Mr. Bourne shook me warmly by the hand. "Thank you," said he. "Good morning." I knew why he thanked me; I knew why he thought that I lived altogether upon my Spanish estates; I knew a little bit about those bridal bouquets. Mr. Bourne, the millionaire, was an old lover of Prue's. There is something very odd about these Spanish castles. When I think of them, I somehow see the fair-haired girl whom I knew when I was not out of short jackets. When Bourne meditates them, he sees Prue and me quietly at home in their best chambers. It is a very singular |
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