Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

THE YOUNG WIDOW. 41 in greeting that you could not help wondering whether Mrs. Brown was not atiny bit jealous when she made harsh remarks about her. Her dresses and turn-outs were allin keeping with her apartments, and her smart little gray cobs, with their heavy, gold-mounted harness, always attracted attention on the avenue, especially when she handled the lines herself. Her acquaintances were many, and her admirers legion. She lived like a pet kitten in its downy basket, and had no end of people to amuse her. So she purred and frolicked all day long in the sunshine, and if she happened to scratch occasionally, why, nobody minded very much, for Dolly was such excellent company, one could not afford to be cross with her for long. But Dolly had not always been so happy. No, indeed. She well remembered the time when she was glad to get two gowns a season and when she actually wore cleaned gloves. The light laughter that filled her rooms now was never heard then, and she, who thought no more at pres- ent of breaking an important engagement than she did of changing her slippers, had more than once felt the weight of acane on her white shoulders, but that was when her late lamented husband was alive. John Peter French had married, at sixty-five, his seven- teen-year-old amanuensis. Feeble and rheumatic, he be- lieved, as many a deluded old gentleman has, that by so doing, he would win a beautiful wife and a tender nurse to comfort his declining years. But he quickly discovered his folly, for upon seeing herself for the first time in pretty gowns, Mrs. French made up her mind that her time would be better spent in admiring herself and being admired than in looking after the wants and needs of an invalid husband, who was totally uninteresting to her. GOmichookssco