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Cooke, Grace MacGowan, 1863-1944

"The Power and the Glory"

But now she
marked mercilessly the light, yet subdued, movements, the deference
expressed when one of these people addressed another; and Gray Stoddard
at the upper end of the room was easily the most marked figure in it.
Who was she to think she might be his friend when all this beautiful
world of ease and luxury and fair speech was open to him?
Like a sword flashed back to her memory of the children. They were being
killed in the mills, while she wasted her thoughts and longings on
people who would laugh if they knew of her presumptuous devotion.
She turned with a low exclamation of astonishment, when somebody touched
her on the shoulder.
"Is you de gal Miss Lyddy sont for?" inquired the yellow waitress a bit
sharply.
"No--yes--I don't know whether Miss Sessions sent for me or not,"
Johnnie halted out; "but," eagerly, "I must see her. I've--Cassy. I've
got to speak to her right now."
Cassy regarded the newcomer rather scornfully.
Yet everybody liked Johnnie, and the servant eventually put off her
design of being impressive and said in a fairly friendly manner:
"You couldn't noways see her now. I couldn't disturb her whilst she's
got company--without you want to put on this here cap and apron and come
he'p me sarve the refreshments. Dey was a gal comin' to resist me, but
she ain't put in her disappearance yet.


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