"But you shall see that I had some reason. If you find time to-day, step
into my library and look at the picture. It's on the mantel, and the
door is open. It may be some one you know, though I doubt even that."
With this I brazenly snatched a pink rose from those within her arm.
"You see Fatty Budlow is coming on," I remarked of this bit of boldness.
"Let him come--he shan't find _me_ in the way." This with an effort to
seem significant.
"Oh, not at _all_!" I assured her politely, and with equal subtlety, I
believe.
Had I known that this was the last time I should ever look upon Miss
Katharine Lansdale, I might have looked longer. She was well worth
seeing for sundry other reasons than her need for common-sense shoes.
But those last times pass so often without our suspecting them! And it
was, indeed, my good fortune never to see her again. For never again was
she to rise, even at her highest, above Miss Kate.
She was even so low as Little Miss when I found her on my porch that
afternoon--a troubled Little Miss, so drooping, so queerly drawn about
the eyes, so weak of mouth, so altogether stricken that I was shot
through at sight of her.
"I waited here--to speak alone--you are late to-day.
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