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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"When a Man Marries"

The effect was all that I had
hoped. He stared at it for an instant, then at me, and with his
hand outstretched for it, stopped.
"Where did you find it?" he asked. I couldn't understand his
expression. He looked embarrassed, but not at all afraid.
"I think you know, Mr. Harbison," I retorted.
"I wish I did. You opened it?"
"Yes."
We stood looking at each other across the table. It was his
glance that wavered.
"About the picture--of you," he said at last. "You see, down
there in South America, a fellow hasn't much to do in the
evenings, and a--a chum of mine and I--we were awfully down on
what we called the plutocrats, the--the leisure classes. And when
that picture of yours came in the paper, we had--we had an
argument. He said--" He stopped.
"What did he say?"
"Well, he said it was the picture of an empty-faced society
girl."
"Oh!" I exclaimed.
"I--I maintained there were possibilities in the face." He put
both hands on the table, and, bending forward, looked down at me.
"Well, I was a fool, I admit. I said your eyes were kind and
candid, in spite of that haughty mouth. You see, I said I was a
fool."
"I think you are exceedingly rude," I managed finally. "If you
want to know where I found your watch, it was down in the coal
cellar. And if you admit you are an idiot, I am not.


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