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Thompson, Maurice, 1844-1901

"Alice of Old Vincennes"

"
"Good friends, but enemies; that's how it is with women. Who's the
young man that's caused the coolness? I could guess, maybe!" He
laughed and winked knowingly. "May I be so bold as to name him at
a venture?"
"Yes, if you'll be sure to mention Monsieur Rene de Ronville," she
gayly answered. "Who but he could work Adrienne up into a perfect
green mist of jealousy?"
"He would need an accomplice, I should imagine; a young lady of
some beauty and a good deal of heartlessness."
"Like whom, for example?" and she tossed her bright head. "Not me,
I am sure."
"Poh! like every pretty maiden in the whole world, ma petite
coquette; they're all alike as peas, cruel as blue jays and as
sweet as apple-blossoms." He stroked her hair clumsily with his
large hand, as a heavy and roughly fond man is apt to do, adding
in an almost serious tone:
"But my little girl is better than most of them, not a foolish
mischief-maker, I hope."
Alice was putting her head through the string of beads and letting
the translucent white disc fall into her bosom.
"It's time to change the subject," she said; "tell me what you
have seen while away. I wish I could go far off and see things.
Have you been to Detroit, Quebec, Montreal?"
"Yes, I've been to all, a long, hard journey, but reasonably
profitable. You shall have a goodly dot when you get married, my
child.


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