* * * * *
Mr. Trevlyn had decided that the marriage of his ward should take place
at Harrison Park, the old country seat of the Harrisons, on the Hudson.
Here Margie's parents had lived always in the summer; here they had died
within a week of each other, and here in the cypress grove by the river,
they were buried. There would be no more fitting place for the marriage
of their daughter to be solemnized. Margie neither opposed nor approved
the plan. She did not oppose anything. She was passive, almost apathetic.
The admiring dressmakers and milliners came and went, fitting, and
measuring, and trying on their tasteful creations, but without eliciting
any signs of interest or pleasure from Margie Harrison. She gave no
orders, found no fault; expressed no admiration nor its opposite. It
was all the same to her.
The bridal dress came home a few days before the appointed day. It was
a superb affair, and Margie looked like a queen in it. It was of white
satin, with a point lace overskirt, looped up at intervals with tiny
bouquets of orange blossoms. The corsage was cut low, leaving the
beautiful shoulders bare, the open sleeves displaying the perfectly
rounded arms in all their perfection. The veil was point lace, and must
have cost a little fortune.
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