.. How in the world could
he himself have compassed all this? And how blessed was he among men that
he had not been obliged to try!
Hortense went through some motions with her brush, yet seemed to be looking
beyond him rather than at him.
"There will be a bridal-trip of a week or so," she concluded; "and they
will be in their new home on the first of May."
"Very good," said Cope. He thought he was thinking to himself, but he spoke
aloud. "And that ends it." This last he really did say to himself.
He sank more comfortably into his chair, kept his face properly immobile,
and spoke no further word. Hortense brought back her gaze to focus and
worked on for a little time in silence. The light was good, her palette was
full, her brushes were well-chosen, her eyes were intent on his face. It
was a handsome face, displayed to the best advantage. She might look as
long as she liked, and a long look preceded every stroke.
Presently she paused, opening her eyes wider and holding aloft her brush.
"There will be a bride's-maid," she said.
"The deuce!" he thought. "That didn't end it!" But he said no thing aloud.
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