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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Sappho of Green Springs"

"
"For heaven's sake, Josephine, don't be ridiculous! Of course it's
stupid her coming in this way, and Mallory ought to have brought
her--but she's coming, and we must receive her. By Jove! Here she is
now!" he added, starting up after a hurried glance through the window.
"But what kind of a d----d turn-out is that, anyhow?"
It certainly was an odd-looking conveyance that had entered the gates,
and was now slowly coming up the drive towards the house. A large
draught horse harnessed to a dust-covered buggy, whose strained
fore-axle, bent by the last mile of heavy road, had slanted the tops
of the fore-wheels towards each other at an alarming angle. The light,
graceful dress and elegant parasol of the young girl, who occupied half
of its single seat, looked ludicrously pronounced by the side of the
slouching figure and grimy duster of the driver, who occupied the other
half.
Mrs. Randolph gave a gritty laugh. "I thought you said she was alone. Is
that an escort she has picked up, American fashion, on the road?"
"That's her hired driver, no doubt.


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