The Argosy — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

— ,= “ Fohn Smuth, Funor.” 121 family. One of them was fourth Wrangler last year. Herbert, [ think he was called—yes, Herbert John Moreton Josselyn.” “This is he. There is mamma, Alicia, you had better ask her to introduce him to you.” Shortly afterwards Frances found the tall handsome stranger at her elbow, inquiring if he might take her down to get an ice. She was not unwilling, and when, on their way upstairs again he remarked that the rooms were suffocatingly hot and that the tiny conservatory looked a tempting contrast, she suffered herself to be led inside and seated in a shady corner on a low lounge which just held two. The account he gave her of his and his friend’s travels must have been very interesting, for when, an hour or so later, Mr. Fitzhardy hunted her up to make his adieux, she was astonished to find how the time had slipped away. He, poor man, had some reason to feel that he had been rather badly treated. He had come there that evening hoping to further assure himself that he must receive a satisfactory answer to the question he was now only waiting a favour- able opportunity to put; and behold, the lady of his love was spending most of her time sitting in a quiet nook with an exceedingly dangerous-looking companion—from his point of view. Frances felt quite sorry the evening was over. When she reached her own room, before divesting herself of her finery, she stood for a moment or two before her looking-glass. It was certainly a graceful reflection that met her eyes; a slender form clothed in soft creamy silk, a rich white neck against which lay a large cluster of sweet gloire de Dijon roses, a small head adorned with thick coils of shining hair turned simply off from a low white forehead, delicately marked eye- brows and long thick lashes shading a pair of clear brown eyes, a small sensitive mouth and straight, well-cut nose. That the picture was so far satisfactory seemed evident from the slight sigh with which she turned away and began drawing off her long gloves. ‘Then she unfastened the roses from her bosom and held them to her face again and again, as if she could not have enough of their fragrance, _ afterwards putting them carefully in water, lingering over the task as if the sight and scent of them recalled something pleasant to her mind. The next afternoon Mrs. Lisle and Frances went out to pay some ' calls, and on their return found two visitors’ cards on the hall table and with them a basket of exquisite Gloire de Dijon roses. Mrs. Lisle took up the cards. and read “ Herbert J. Moreton Josselyn,” and “John Smith, Junr.” Edith came flying down the stairs two at a time. “Oh, Francie, the roses are for you. Aren’t they lovely? Two gentlemen brought them, I met them on the doorstep—they came in a cab—I was just coming in from the Square with the little ones. The one who had the flowers was such a handsome fellow—-he said to me, ‘Are you one of the Miss Lisles?’ so I said, ‘ Yes, ’m Edith VOL. XLIX. eon ElOOO© SS) (S©) mM