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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Sappho of Green Springs"

"
"There's no one there now," said Rushbrook, with practical directness;
"come and take a look at it." She complied without hesitation, walking
by his side, tall, easy, and self-possessed, apparently accepting
without self-consciousness his half paternal, half comrade-like
informality. The boudoir was a large room, repeating on a bigger scale
the incongruousness and ill fitting splendor of the others. When she
had of her own accord recognized and pointed out the more admirable
articles, he said, gravely looking at his watch, "We've just about seven
minutes yet; if you'd like to pull and haul these things around, I'll
help you."
The young girl smiled. "I'm quite content with what I've done in my own
room, where I have no one's taste to consult but my own. I hardly know
how Mr. Rushbrook, or his lady friends, might like my operating here."
Then recognizing with feminine tact the snub that might seem implied in
her refusal, she said quickly, "Tell me something about our host--but
first look! isn't that pretty?"
She had stopped before the window that looked upon the dim blue abyss of
the canyon, and was leaning out to gaze upon it.


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