Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 33: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

24 “ARTHUR? AND I HAVE PARTED !” clared, nor would it be, until she was settled in a home of her own anc her darling Rose was with her. More letters followed, all written in about the same strain, and with Arthur’s name on every page. ‘*He is so devoted,’’ she wrote, ‘‘I know you will wonder how your silly little sister ever managed to capture such a prize. ”’ These effusions were the brightest spots in Rose Delmar’s monotonous life while Florence was away, and she re-read each one every night until the next arrived. Her own were long, loving epistles, giving the little inci- dents of every-day life at Wallford, and invariably ending up with the injunction for Florence to stay as long as she liked, for she was getting along famously without her. One evening, when Florence had been gone a little over three weeks, a carriage stopped at the door. Rose was feed- ing one of her canaries at the window when it drove up. To her utter astonishment, she saw Florence alight from it, pay the driver, and enter the house. Delighted beyond measure (for she did not expect her back for two weeks yet), she dropped the bit of celery with which she was trying to coax the wary Dickie onto her fin- ger and ran to the front door before Nora could possibly reach it. She fairly dragged Florence into the hall and was about to smother her with kisses when she started back. ‘“Why, my darling,’’ she cried, ‘‘what is the matter? Are you ill?’’ ‘Oh, no, indeed; I’m all right. I got lonely, and soI came home, that’s all,’’ answered the young girl, with quivering lips. | Then, as her sister laid her arm about her and looked Gomichbooks: co im