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Webster, Henry Kitchell, 1875-1932

"The Real Adventure"

The thing wasn't to be discussed; not to be considered for
an instant. "We're perfectly well off, mother and I. We're living easily
within our income out here, and--we're as contented as possible." The
cadence of those last three words had a finality about it that closed
the subject.
Portia didn't want to share, vicariously, in the life she'd made
possible for Rose. The branch had withered indeed and didn't want the
pain of feeling the sap struggling up under its bark again. The ashes
had better be left banked up about the fading coal. The silence was like
the click of a closing door. Then Portia said:
"What does the North Side bunch think of you now you've come back? And
those Lake Forest friends of yours? They must have been hideously
scandalized. Are they going to forgive you?"
"Oh, they're lovely to me," said Rose. "The only one I've lost out with
is Frederica. She'll be a long time making it up with me, if she ever
does."
"She saw what Rodney went through while you were away, I expect,"
Portia suggested.


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