Of his sisters, one, Alice, furnishes him a
theme he loves to dwell upon.
"She is like you, Miss Rosa," he says. "Maybe not quite so pretty, but,
just as nice, and good, and--"
"There! Walter," says Miss Rosa sharply, "now talk about something
else."
But a shadow falls upon the wall outside, preceding a big, softly
treading man, finely dressed, who pauses a second before the curtains
and then passes on. Presently comes the waiter with a message: "Mr.
Rolfe says--"
"Tell Rolfe I'm engaged."
"I don't know why it is," says Goodall, of Memphis, "but I don't feel as
bad as I did. An hour ago I wanted to die, but since I've met you, Miss
Rosa, I'd like so much to live."
The young woman whirls around the table, lays an arm behind his neck and
kisses him on the cheek.
"You must, dear boy," she says. "I know what was the matter. It was the
miserable foggy weather that has lowered your spirit and mine too--a
little. But look, now."
With a little spring she has drawn back the curtains. A window is in the
wall opposite, and lo! the mist is cleared away.
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