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Hawthorne, Julian, 1846-1934

"David Poindexter's Disappearance, and Other Tales"

It
took me some little time to get used to that. I wanted everything to be
just in a certain way. They used to laugh at me, and say I was more
English than he."
"Now that you are both here, you must both be American."
"He doesn't enjoy America much. Of course, it is very different from
London. An Englishman can not be expected to care for American ways and
American quickness, and--"
"American people?" I put in, laughingly.
"Don't undress dolly here," she said to Susie. "It isn't time yet to
put her to bed, and she might catch cold."
Was this another evasion? The serene face betrayed nothing, but she
had left unanswered the question that aimed at discovering how she and
her husband stood toward each other. After all, however, no answer
could have told me more than her no answer did--supposing it to have
been intentional. I soon afterward took my leave, after having arranged
to call to-morrow and accompany her and Susie on their house-hunting
expedition. Upon the whole, I don't think I am sorry to have renewed my
acquaintance with her. She is more delightful--as an acquaintance--than
when I knew her formerly.


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