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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Rose in the Ring"

She was not
more than twenty, but there was an easy assurance in her manner that
bespoke ages of conquest and not an instant of defeat. The elder was
an aristocratic woman past middle age, the possessor of cold, aquiline
features and smileless eyes. Her hair was almost snow white, but her
figure was straight and youthful.
Presently they were conducted to their rooms by an obsequious porter,
and the young girls returned to the group at the fireside. There was a
common, ridiculously casual movement among the older people in the
room; the newcomers were barely out of sight in the upper hall before
the first of the curious ones was looking over the register. Inside of
three minutes a score of persons had glanced at the freshly written
names and passed on to the water cooler, thence back to their seats, a
fresh topic for conversation well in mind.
"Who is she?" demanded an eager young man from Richmond.
The Baltimore girls were visibly excited.
"I didn't know they had returned to this country, did you, Nell?
They've been living abroad for several years. Goodness, how that girl
has blossomed out.


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