Autobiography of a Pocket-Handkerchief by James Fenimore Cooper
page 93 of 192 (48%)
page 93 of 192 (48%)
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confidential a mission--"There, Miss Dosie, there it is, and it's a jewel."
{preferred = promoted} "What has Honor brought you NOW?" asked Clara Caverly in her quiet way, for she saw by the brilliant eyes and flushed cheeks of her friend that it was something the other would have pleasure in conversing about. "You make so many purchases, dear Eudosia, that I should think you would weary of them." "What, weary of beautiful dresses? Never, Clara, never! That might do for White street, but in Broadway one is never tired of such things-- see," laying me out at full length in her lap, "this is a pocket- handkerchief--I wish your opinion of it." Clara examined me very closely, and, in spite of something like a frown, and an expression of dissatisfaction that gathered about her pretty face- -for Clara was pretty, too--I could detect some of the latent feelings of the sex, as she gazed at my exquisite lace, perfect ornamental work, and unequaled fineness. Still, her education and habits triumphed, and she would not commend what she regarded as ingenuity misspent, and tasteless, because senseless, luxury. "This handkerchief cost ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS, Clara," said Eudosia, deliberately and with emphasis, imitating, as near as possible, the tone of Bobbinet & Co. "Is it possible, Eudosia! What a sum to pay for so useless a thing!" "Useless! Do you call a pocket-handkerchief useless?" |
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