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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A First Family of Tasajara"

"I
will be ready in a moment," she said to the landlord. Then, turning
to John Milton, the arch-hypocrite said sweetly: "My brother must have
known instinctively that I was in good hands, as he didn't come. But I
am sorry, for I should have so liked to introduce him to you--although
by the way," with a bright smile, "I don't think you have yet told me
your name. I know I couldn't have FORGOTTEN it."
"Harcourt," said John Milton, with a half-embarrassed laugh.
"But you must come and see me, Mr.--Mr. Harcourt," she said, producing
a card from a case already in her fingers, "at my hotel, and let my
brother thank you there for your kindness and gallantry to a stranger. I
shall be here a few weeks longer before we go south to look for a place
where my brother can winter. DO come and see me, although I cannot
introduce you to anything as real and beautiful as what YOU have shown
me to-day. Good-by, Mr. Harcourt; I won't trouble you to come down and
bore yourself with my escort's questions and congratulations."
She bent her head and allowed her soft eyes to rest upon his with a
graciousness that was beyond her speech, pulled her veil over her eyes
again, with a pretty suggestion that she had no further use for them,
and taking her riding-skirt lightly in her hand seemed to glide from the
room.
On her way to San Mateo, where it appeared the disorganized party had
prolonged their visit to accept an invitation to dine with a local
magnate, she was pleasantly conversational with the slightly abstracted
Grant.


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