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Webster, Henry Kitchell, 1875-1932

"The Real Adventure"


But presently, standing there, looking down on the lumpy bed, she smiled
widely instead, over the notion of doing it as a sort of concession to
respectability. She had got her absolution from Rodney himself out of
the memory of their first real talk together. Discipline, he'd said, was
accepting the facts of life as they were. Not raising a lamentation
because they weren't different. The only way you had of getting anywhere
was by riding on the backs of your own passions. Well, her great ride
was just beginning!
Rose dusted the mirror with a towel--a reckless act, as she saw for
herself, when she discovered she was going to have to use that towel for
a week--and took an appraising look at herself. Then she nodded
confidently--there was nothing the matter with her looks--and resumed
her ulster, her rubbers and her umbrella, for it was the kind of
December day that called for all three. Her landlady could stick the
receipt under the door, she reflected, as she locked it.
Two blocks down the street, she found, as predicted, the cigar store
with the blue sign, "Schulz Express," and left her trunk check there
with her address and fifty cents.


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