"She's in Seattle. She's married
again to a man named Horton, a sort of lumber king. He's a great deal
older than she is, I believe."
"And she's behaving?"
"Yes--that is, I've heard so. She has everything, you see. Nothing
much to do except dress up for this fellow at dinner-time."
"I see."
Without effort he changed the subject.
"Are you going to keep the house?"
"I think so," she said, nodding. "I've lived here so long, Harry, it'd
seem terrible to move. I thought of trained nursing, but of course
that'd mean leaving. I've about decided to be a boarding-house lady."
"Live in one?"
"No. Keep one. Is there such an anomaly as a boarding-house lady?
Anyway I'd have a negress and keep about eight people in the summer
and two or three, if I can get them, in the winter. Of course I'll
have to have the house repainted and gone over inside."
Harry considered.
"Roxanne, why--naturally you know best what you can do, but it does
seem a shock, Roxanne. You came here as a bride."
"Perhaps," she said, "that's why I don't mind remaining here as a
boarding-house lady."
"I remember a certain batch of biscuits."
"Oh, those biscuits," she cried. "Still, from all I heard about the
way you devoured them, they couldn't have been so bad. I was _so_
low that day, yet somehow I laughed when the nurse told me about those
biscuits."
"I noticed that the twelve nail-holes are still in the library wall
where Jeff drove them.
Pages:
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342