SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 287 | Next

Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"Summer"

"
"Oh, but I can't--it's all I've got," Charity exclaimed.
Dr. Merkle looked up at her pleasantly from the plush sofa. "It seems
you got married yesterday, up to the 'Piscopal church; I heard all about
the wedding from the minister's chore-man. It would be a pity, wouldn't
it, to let Mr. Royall know you had an account running here? I just put
it to you as your own mother might."
Anger flamed up in Charity, and for an instant she thought of abandoning
the brooch and letting Dr. Merkle do her worst. But how could she leave
her only treasure with that evil woman? She wanted it for her baby: she
meant it, in some mysterious way, to be a link between Harney's child
and its unknown father. Trembling and hating herself while she did it,
she laid Mr. Royall's money on the table, and catching up the brooch
fled out of the room and the house....
In the street she stood still, dazed by this last adventure. But the
brooch lay in her bosom like a talisman, and she felt a secret lightness
of heart.


Pages:
275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299