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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Clarence"

Boompointer, was already
upon them. For a moment the whole four were silent, although perfectly
composed. Senator Boompointer, unconscious of any infelicity in his
interruption, was calmly waiting. Clarence, opposed suddenly to the
young girl whom he believed was avoiding his recognition, rose, coldly
imperturbable. Miss Faulkner, looking taller and more erect in the long
folds of her satin cloak, neither paled nor blushed, as she regarded
Susy and Brant with a smile of well-bred apology.
"I expect to leave Washington to-morrow, and may not be able to call
again," she said, "or I would not have so particularly pressed a
leave-taking upon you."
"I was talking with my old friend, General Brant," said Susy, more by
way of introduction than apology.
Brant bowed. For an instant the clear eyes of Miss Faulkner slipped
icily across his as she made him an old-fashioned Southern courtesy,
and, taking Susy's arm, she left the room. Brant did not linger, but
took leave of his host almost in the same breath. At the front door a
well-appointed carriage of one of the Legations had just rolled into
waiting. He looked back; he saw Miss Faulkner, erect and looking like a
bride in her gauzy draperies, descending the stairs before the waiting
servants.


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