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Augusta, Clara, 1839-1905

"The Fatal Glove"

It is particularly annoying."
"What do you mean, Mr. Trevlyn?"
"I am obliged to go to Philadelphia on important business, and must leave
in this evening's train. I did not know of the necessity until a few
hours ago."
Mrs. Trevlyn was just in the state to be wrought upon by trifles.
"Always business," she exclaimed, pettishly. "I am sick of the word."
"Business before pleasure, Mrs. Trevlyn. But, really this is an important
affair. It is connected with the house of Renshaw and Selwyn, which went
under last week. The firm were under large obligations to--"
"Don't talk business to me, Mr. Trevlyn. I do not understand such
things--neither do I desire to. I only hope it _is_ business you are
going for!"
Mr. Trevlyn looked at her in some surprise.
"You only hope it _is_ business?" he said, inquiringly. "I do not
comprehend."
"I might have said that I hoped it was not a woman who called you from
your wife!"
The moment the words were spoken she repented their utterance, but the
mischief was already done.
"Mrs. Trevlyn, I shall request you to unsay the insinuation conveyed in
your words. They are unworthy of you and a shame to me."
"And I shall decline to unsay them. I dare affirm they are true enough."
"What do you mean, madam? I am, I trust, a man of honor.


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