"
"That is the date, then, is it?" The more he thought of the impending
ceremony, the more grateful he was for his escape. Thankfulness had salved
the earlier wound; no pain now came from his touching it.
"Yes; on that day the house will see the last of them."
"The wedding, then, will----?"
"Yes. Aunt Medora says, 'Why go to Iowa?--you're at home here.' Why,
indeed, drag George away out to Fort Lodge? Let her own people, who are not
many, come to us. Aunt will do everything, and do it handsomely."
She slanted her palette and looked toward the skylight. Cope's own glance
swept non-committally the green burlap walls. Both of them were seeing
pictures of the wedding preparations. Hortense saw delivery-boys at the
front door, with things that must be held to the light or draped over
chairs. She saw George haling Amy to the furniture-shops and to the dealers
in wall-paper. She saw them in cosy shaded confab evening after evening, in
her aunt's library. It was a period of joy, of self-absorption, of
unsettlement, of longing, of irritation, of exasperation--oh, would it
never end! Cope saw a long string of gifts and entertainments, a diamond
engagement-ring, a lavishly-furnished apartment .
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