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Jerome, Jerome K. (Jerome Klapka), 1859-1927

"The Fawn Gloves"

Age may be attracted by
contrast, but youth has no use for its opposite. He would send
Matthew away. He could return for week-ends. Continually so close
to one another, they saw only one another's specks and flaws; there
is no beauty without perspective. Matthew wanted the corners rubbed
off him, that was all. Mixing more with men, his priggishness would
be laughed out of him. Otherwise he was quite a decent youngster,
clean minded, high principled. Clever, too: he often said quite
unexpected things. With approaching womanhood, changes were taking
place in Ann. Seeing her every day one hardly noticed them; but
there were times when, standing before him flushed from a walk or
bending over him to kiss him before starting for some friendly
dance, Abner would blink his eyes and be puzzled. The thin arms
were growing round and firm; the sallow complexion warming into
olive; the once patchy, mouse-coloured hair darkening into a rich
harmony of brown. The eyes beneath her level brows, that had always
been her charm, still reminded Abner of her mother; but there was
more light in them, more danger.
"I'll run down to Albany and talk to Jephson about him," decided
Abner. "He can come home on Saturdays."
The plot might have succeeded: one never can tell.


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