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Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn, 1857-1948

"What Dreams May Come"


"We are to be married a month from to-day," he said. "A month from
to-day and we shall be knocking about Europe and pining for English
civilization." He drew her down on the cushioned seat that ran along
the wall by the chimney-piece. "We cannot go out to-night; there is a
storm coming up. Ah, did I not tell you?" as a gust of wind shrieked
and rattled the sash.
She gave a little shiver and drew closer to him. "I hate a storm," she
said. "It always brings back--" she stopped abruptly.
"Brings back what?"
"Nothing," hastily. "So father has given his consent? But I knew he
would. I knew he liked you the moment you met; and when he alluded
that night to your small hands and feet I knew that the cause was won.
Had they been at fault, nothing could have persuaded him that you did
not have a broad river of red blood in you somewhere, and he never
would have approved of you had you been the monarch of a kingdom."
Dartmouth smiled. "The men at college used to laugh at my hands, until
I nearly choked one of them to death one day, after which they never
laughed at them again.


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