I went to see Roxanna Riddle
marry that grand duke fellow. It was in a big church over by the
park--St. Bartholomew's, they call it. I sat looking at a stained
glass window over the altar, and Billy, I swear I believe this Mr.
Carpenter came down from that window!"
"Maybe he did, Mary," I put in.
"But I'm not joking! I tell you he's the living, speaking image of
that figure. Come to think of it, he isn't speaking, he hasn't said
a word! Tell me, Mr. Carpenter, have you got a voice, or are you
only a close up from 'The Servant in the House' or 'Ben Hur'? Say
something, so I can get a line on you!"
Again I stood wondering; how would Carpenter take this? Would he bow
his head and run before a hail-storm of feminine impertinence? Would
she "vamp" him, as she did every man who came near her? Or would
this man do what no man alive had yet been able to do--reduce her to
silence?
He smiled gently; and I saw that she had vamped him this much, at
least--he was going to be polite! "Mary," he said, "I think you are
carrying everything but the nose jewels.
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