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Curtis, George William, 1824-1892

"Trumps"


Poor Alfred was more speechless than ever. He felt very warm and red, and
began to surmise that to be engaged was not necessarily to be free from
carking care. He was sorely puzzled to know how to break the real news to
his parents:
"Oh! dear me," thought Alfred; "oh! dear me, I wonder if Fanny wouldn't
do it. I guess I'd better ask her. I wonder if Hope would have had me!
Oh! dear me. I wonder if old Newt is rich. How'd I happen to do it? Oh!
dear me."
He felt very much depressed indeed.
"Well, mother, I'm going down," said he.
"My dear, dear son! Kiss me, Alfred," replied his mother.
He stooped and kissed her cheek.
"How happy we shall all be!" murmured she.
"Oh, very, very happy!" answered Alfred, as he opened the door.
But as he closed it behind him, the best billiard-player at the
Trimountain billiard-rooms said, ruefully, in his heart, while he
went to his beloved,
"Oh! dear me! Oh!--dear--me! How'd I happen to do it?"
Fanny Newt, of course, had heard from Alfred of the interview with his
mother on the same evening, as they sat in Mrs. Newt's parlor before
going into the ball. Fanny was arrayed in a charming evening costume. It
was low about the neck, which, except that it was very white, descended
like a hard, round beach from the low shrubbery of her back hair to the
shore of the dress. It was very low tide; but there was a gentle ripple
of laces and ribbons that marked the line of division.


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