It is just a curious
instance of the intricacy of human relationships--you're not going
in, are you?"
"There is some typing I want to finish," said Desire. "I have been
letting myself get shamefully behind."
CHAPTER XXI
The weather on the day of Desire's reception could scarcely have
been bettered. Rain had fallen during the night; fallen just
sufficiently to lay the dust on the drive and liberate all the
thousand flower scents in the drowsy garden. It was hot enough for
the most summery dresses and cool enough for a summer fur. What more
could be desired?
Bainbridge was expectant. It was known that Miss Campion was
excelling herself in honor of her nephew's bride, and the bride
herself was alluringly rumored to be a personality. It is doubtful
if anyone really believed the "part Indian" suggestion, but there
were those who liked to dally with it. Its possibility was a taste
of lemon on a cloyed tongue.
"They say she is part Indian--fancy, a Spence!" "Nonsense. I asked
Dr. Rogers about it and he made me feel pretty foolish. The truth
is--her parents are both English. The father is a doctor, at one
time a most celebrated physician in London."
"Physicians who are celebrated in London usually stay there."
"And I am sure she is dark enough." "Not with that skin! And her
eyes are grey." "Oh, I admit she's pretty--if you like that style. I
wonder where she gets her clothes?"
"Where they know how to make them, anyway.
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