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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, August 11, 1913, Image 18',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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HOLDING HANDS BY GOUVERNEUR MORRIS
(Continued from Saturday.)
"I've liked being good friends so
much," she said. "Don't spoil it"
"I will MAKE you happy," he said.
. . . "Has it never entered your
dear head that some time you must
give me an answer?"
She nodded her dear head, for she
"I suppose so," she said.
"A decision is expected from us,"
said he. "People are growing tired of
our long backing and filling."
"People! -Dp they matter?"
"They matter a geat deal. And
you know it."
"Yes, I suppose they do. Let me
off for now, Bob. People are looking
at us. . . . Give me two weeks.
I Shall think about nothing else."
"Thank you," he said. "Two weeks.
. , . . That will befull moon. . .
I shall ask all Aiken to a picnic in
the. woods. . . and and if your
answer is to be my happiness, why,
you shall come up to me, and say,
'Bobrdrive me home, will you?"
"Aid if it's the other answer,
He smiled in his usual bantering
"If it's the other, Phyllis why
you you can walk home."
She laughed joyously, and he
laughed, just as if nothing but what
was light and amusing was in ques
tion between them.
Along the Whiskey Road the whole
floating population of Aiken moved
on horseback or wheels through the
sweet-smelling dark to Mr. Bob Blag
don's picnic in Red Oak Hollow.
Blagdon had preceded his guests
by half an hour, and was already at
the scene of the picnic. The night
was hot with heaviness. It was clear
and bestarred. Furthermore, it was
so still that candles burned without
A table thirty feet long and low to
the ground so that people sitting on
rugs could eat from it with comfort,
stood beneath the giant red oak that
gave a name to the hollow. The
white damask and the silver and cut
glass gleamed in the light of dozens
of candles. The flowers were Mare
chal Niel roses.
At the last moment, when to have
been any later would have been either
rude or accidental, little Miss Blythe's
voice was heard.
Miss Blythe blinked at the lights
and looked very beautiful. She was
all 'in white and wore no hat. She
had a red rose at her throat. She was
grave for her and silent
The truth was that she had during
the last ten minutes made up her
mind to ask Blagdon to drive her
home when the picnic should be over.
She had asked Masters to drive out
with her; and how much that had
delighted him nobody knew (alas!)
except Mister Masters himself. She
had, during the last few weeks, given
him every opportunity which her
somewhat unconventional soul could
sanction. In a hundred ways she had
shown him that she liked him im
mensely; and well if he liked her
in the same way, he would have man
aged to show it, in spite of his shy
ness. The drive out had been a fail
ure. They had gotten no further in
conversation than the beauty and
the sweet smells of the night And
finally she had given him up as a bad
At Mister Masters, now seated near
the other'end of the table, she lifted
shy eyes; but he lwas looking at his
plate and crumbling a piece of bread.
It was like saying goodby. She was
silent for a moment; then, .smiling
with a kind of reckless gayety, she
lifted her glass of champagne and
turned to the host
'To you!" she said.
Delight swelled in the breast of Mr.