"BAB A SUB-DEB" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rinehart Mary Roberts)

"Now, Barbara, I am not going to have any nonsense. You
must put that man out of your head."
"Man? What man?"
"You think you are in love with some drivelling young Fool.
I'm not blind, or an idot. And I won't have it."
"I have not said that there is anyone, have I?" I said in
a gentle voice. "But if there was, just what would you propose
to do, mother?"
"If you were three years younger I'd propose to spank you."
Then I think she saw that she was taking the wrong method, for
she changed her Tactics. "It's the fault of that Silly School,"
she said. (Note: These are my mother's words, not mine.) "They
are hotbeds of sickley sentamentality. They----"
And just then the violets came, addressed to me. Mother
opened them herself, her mouth set. "My love is like a white,
white rose," she said. "Barbara, do you know who sent these?"
"Yes, mother," I said meekly. This was quite true. I did.
I am indeed sorry to record that here my mother lost her
temper, and there was no end of a fuss. It ended by mother
offering me a string of seed pearls for Christmas, and my party
dresses cut V front and back, if I would, as she phrazed it,
"put him out of my silly head."
"I shall have to write one letter, mother," I said, "to--to
break things off. I cannot tear myself out of another's Life
without a word."
She sniffed.
"Very well," she said. "One letter. I trust you to make it
only one."
I come now to the next day. How true it is, that "Man's
life is but a jest, a dream, a shadow, bubble, air, a vapour at
the best!"
I spent the morning with mother at the dressmakers and she
chose two perfectly spiffing things, one of white chiffon over
silk, made modafied Empire, with little bunches of roses here
and there on it, and when she and the dressmaker were hagling
over the roses, I took the scizzors and cut the neck of the
lining two inches lower in front. The effect was posatively
impressive. The other was blue over orkid, a perfectly
passionate combination.
When we got home some of the girls had dropped in, and
Carter Brooks and Sis were having tea in the den. I am perfectly
sure that Sis threw a cigarette in the fire when I went in. When
I think of my sitting here alone, when I have done _nothing_,
and Sis playing around and smoking cigarettes, and nothing said,
all for a difference of 2O months, it makes me furious.
"Let's go in and play with the children, Leila," he said.
"I'm feeling young today."
Which was perfectly silly. He is not Methuzala. Although
thinking himself so, or almost.
Well, they went into the drawing room. Elaine Adams was