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Rinehart, Mary Roberts

"Bab"

"The house we had last year at
the seashore is emty and we can have it. But mother won't go.
She--well, she won't go. They're going to open the country house
and stay there."
A few days previously this would have been sad news for me,
owing to not being allowed to go to the Country Club except in
the mornings, and no chance to meet any new people, and no
bathing save in the usual tub. But now I thriled at the
information, because the Grays have a place near the Club also.
For a moment I closed my eyes and saw myself, all in white
and decked with flours, wandering through the meadows and on the
links with a certain Person whose name I need not write, having
allready related my feelings toward him.
I am older now by some weeks, older and sader and wiser.
For Tradgedy has crept into my life, so that somtimes I wonder
if it is worth while to live on and suffer, especialy without an
Allowence, and being again obliged to suplicate for the smallest
things.
But I am being brave. And, as Carter Brooks wrote me in a
recent letter, acompanying a box of candy:
"After all, Bab, you did your durndest.


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