Титан

The Daughter of Mrs. Fleming

           Cowperwoodseemedinnowayimportanttoher.

           "Whatwouldyousay,dear,"pursuedMrs.Carter,afterabriefexchangeofcommonplaces,"ifIweretospendnextwinterinNewYork?"

           "ItwouldbecharmingifIcouldliveathome.I’msickofthissillyboarding-school."

           "Why,Berenice!Ithoughtyoulikedit."

           "Ihateit,butonlybecauseit’ssodull.Thegirlsherearesosilly."

           Mrs.Carterliftedhereyebrowsasmuchastosaytoherescort,"Nowwhatdoyouthink?"Cowperwoodstoodsolemnlyby.Itwasnotforhimtomakeasuggestionatpresent.HecouldseethatforsomereasonprobablybecauseofherdisorderedlifeMrs.Carterwasplayingagameofmannerswithherdaughter;shemaintainedalwaysalofty,romanticair.WithBereniceitwasnaturaltheexpressionofavain,self-conscious,superiordisposition.

           "Arathercharminggardenhere,"heobserved,liftingacurtainandlookingoutintoabloomingplot.

           "Yes,theflowersarenice,"commentedBerenice.

           "Wait;I’llgetsomeforyou.It’sagainsttherules,buttheycan’tdomorethansendmeaway,andthat’swhatIwant."

           "Berenice!Comebackhere!"

           ItwasMrs.Cartercalling.

           Thedaughterwasgoneinaflingofgracefullinesandflounces."Nowwhatdoyoumakeofher?"askedMrs.Carter,turningtoherfriend.

           "Youth,individuality,energyahundredthings

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