“I wanted to wear my bronze, but again Mrs. Irvine deterred me. “Best save your fine feathers, Jennie. What will you wear to stun Marndale if he has a real party while we’re here?” she asked in her commonsensical way. I wore the citron complexion destroyer again. Anselm praised it to the skies. “We did not see this side of Miss Robsjohn at the seminary!” he exclaimed after three or four outrageous compliments. I wished he would not harp on the seminary, but he was so complimentary that it is mer...e carping to mention it. “I doubt you heard the rough side of her tongue either, as I have done,” Marndale said, and went on to describe our initial encounters with many jokes and much laughter. “No, surely he did not accuse you of being an abbess!” Anselm expostulated. “It’s like calling a judge a felon. Unthinkable!” “She called me a rake!” Marndale defended. “Ah, but that is not entirely unthinkable, is it, Charles?” Anselm laughed. Marndale gave an uneasy look and sought refuge in French.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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