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Grant, Robert, 1852-1940

"Unleavened Bread"

Sweeping into the room, an animated vision of smiling,
stylish cordiality, she sought, as it were, to carry before her by force
of her own radiant mood all obstacles to an amiable reception.
"My dear, we haven't met for ages. Thank heaven, Lent has come, and now
I may see something of you. I said to Gregory only yesterday that I
should make a bee-line for your house, and here I am. Well, dear, how
are you? All sorts of things have happened, Selma, since we've had a
real chat together. Do you remember my telling you--of course you
do--not long after Gregory and I were married that I never should be
satisfied until one thing happened? Well, you may congratulate me; it
has happened. We dined a week ago to-night with my cousins--the Morton
Prices--a dinner of fourteen, all of them just the people I wished to
know. Wasn't it lovely? I have waited for it to come, and I haven't
moved a finger to bring it about, except to ask them to my dancing
party--I had to do that, for after all they are my relations. They
accepted and came and I was pleased by it; but they could easily have
ignored me afterward if they had wished. What really pleased me, Selma,
was their asking me to one of their select dinners, because--because it
showed that we are--"
Flossy's hesitation was due partly to the inherent difficulty of
expressing her thought with proper regard for modesty.


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