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Young, E. H. (Emily Hilda), 1880-1949

"The Bridge Dividing"

She is no more innocent than she looks.'
'She doesn't mean half she says,' Sophia whispered.
'And neither is Francis Sales,' Caroline persisted. 'Ridiculous! Dark
roads, indeed! I don't think I care for your wandering about at night,
Henrietta.'
'I won't do it again,' Henrietta said meekly.
'Sophia and I--' Caroline began one of her reminiscences, to which
neither Sophia nor Henrietta listened. To the one, they were familiar
in their exaggeration, and the other had her own thoughts, which were
bewilderingly confused.
She had meant to stand between Francis Sales and Aunt Rose; later she
had wished to help them, now she did not know whether she wanted to
help or hinder. The thing was too much for her, but she wondered if
Aunt Rose had ever experienced such a kiss. Meeting her a few minutes
later on the stairs, with her slim hand on the polished rail, a
beautiful satin-shod foot gleaming below the lace of her dress, she
seemed a being too ethereal for a salute so earthly, and because she
looked so lovely, because Christabel had been unjust, Henrietta forgot
to feel unfriendly.
Rose said unexpectedly, 'Oh, Henrietta, I am glad you have come back.
You seem to have been away for a long time.'
'I went to the Battys' to tea and then to Sales Hall. I promised Mrs.
Sales. Do you mind?'
'Of course not; but I missed you.'
'Oh! Oh! I never thought of that.'
'I always miss you,' Rose said gravely.


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