. The Ladies' home journal. in. For crying out loud, I thought therea team of horses in here, she declared ptlantly. What are you doing? Sarah smiled at her with perfectly bbdreamy eyes. Im getting dressed for ]Jones, she said. At seven oclock Sarah sauntered toliving room in a sulky mood that would haroused a brisk word from her mother. Ajacket was tossed over one shoulder offirst black dinner dress; it was certainl;shame to waste this grandeur on mothistuffy old beau, Sarah brooded resentfulleafing through a magazine. She heard Addie go to the door. Listeiwith the top of her mind, she heard
. The Ladies' home journal. in. For crying out loud, I thought therea team of horses in here, she declared ptlantly. What are you doing? Sarah smiled at her with perfectly bbdreamy eyes. Im getting dressed for ]Jones, she said. At seven oclock Sarah sauntered toliving room in a sulky mood that would haroused a brisk word from her mother. Ajacket was tossed over one shoulder offirst black dinner dress; it was certainl;shame to waste this grandeur on mothistuffy old beau, Sarah brooded resentfulleafing through a magazine. She heard Addie go to the door. Listeiwith the top of her mind, she heard avoice ask, Is Miss Sarah Martin here?Mr. Jones. Sarah became immobile, frozen; yet wan extraordinary circulation speed-up a]large whirling emotions. By degrees, jlooked toward the arched door. Standjthere in dinner clothes, carrying a cellophlbox with two orchids, was Eric. Eric Job Miss Martin? He advanced steadtoward her. Yuh—yes, she admitted in a voiceshad never heard before. (Continued on Page 220) THIS 15 ASLOSHED. THISA Watch b/«d WATcHlNC- Y60 Su Miff Mimiu Lvaf
Size: 1635px × 1527px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookidladieshomejourna65janwyet
