And it was in this library that Cope and Medora Phillips met.
"You've been neglecting me," she said.
"But how can I----?" he began.
"Yes, I know," she returned generously. "But after the first of May--Well,
he is a young man of decisiveness and believes in quick action." She made a
whiff, accompanied by an outward and forward motion of the hands. She was
wafting Amy Leffingwell out of her own house into the new home which George
Pearson was preparing for her. "After that----"
"Yes, after that, of course."
Mrs. Phillips was handling unconsciously a small pamphlet which lay on the
library table. It was a magazine of verse--a monthly which did not scorn
poets because they happened to live in the county in which it was
published. The table of contents was printed on the cover, and the names of
contributors were arranged in order down the right-hand side. Mrs.
Phillips, carelessly running her eye over it while thinking of other
things, was suddenly aware of the name of Carolyn Thorpe.
"What's this?" she asked. She ran her eye across to the other edge of the
cover, and read, "Two Sonnets."
"Well, well," she observed, and turned to the indicated page.
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