" Also there had recently come into her
possession a magazine clipping of the boy king of Spain; she
couldn't claim that Alphonso was handsome--in truth he was quite
ugly--yet there was something intriguing about him. She secretly
treasured the printed likeness and thought about the original a
great deal: the alluring life he led, the panoply of courts, royal
balls and garden-parties and resplendent military parades, and
associating with princes and princesses all the time. She wondered,
with a little sigh, whether his "crowd" called him by his first
name; though a King he was just a boy--about her own age.
Nevertheless, though Arthur Simpson was neither handsome nor
revealed aught which might stir vague, deep currents of romance,
Missy regretted that even Arthur had seen her in such a sorry
plight. She wished he might see her at a better advantage. For
instance, galloping up on a spirited mount, in a modish riding-
habit--a checked one with flaring-skirted coat and shining boots and
daring but swagger breeches, perhaps!--galloping insouciantly up to
take that dare!
But she knew it was an empty dream.
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