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Fuller, Henry Blake, 1857-1929

"Bertram Cope's Year"

Does that make it any better?"
"I'm sure the last thing in the world I should want to do would be to----"
"I know. Would be to show partiality. To fail in treating all alike. Even
that small programme isn't much--nor likely to please any girl; but you
have failed to carry it out, small as it is. Here in this house, there on
the dunes, what have I been--and where? Put into any obscure corner, lost
in the woods, left off somewhere on the edge of things...."
Cope stared and tried to stem her protests. She was of the blood,--her
aunt's own niece. But whereas Medora Phillips sometimes "scrapped," as he
called it, merely to promote social diversion and to keep the
conversational ball a-rolling, this young person, a more vigorous organism,
and with decided, even exaggerated ideas as to her dues... Well, the room
was still full, and he was glad enough of it.
"I don't know whether I like you or not," she went on, in a low, rapid
tone; "and I don't suppose you very much like me; but I won't go on being
ignored....
"Ignored? Why," stammered Cope, "my sense of obligation to this house----"
She shrugged scornfully.


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