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Frederic, Harold, 1856-1898

"The Market-Place"


Returning, they paused again to look into the lighted window
of the nice little book-shop. The numerous photographs
of what they were entitled to behold from the windows
of their hotel seemed more convincing than photographs
usually were. As the young people inspected them,
they became reassured. It was not credible that such a noble
vista would forever deny itself to such earnest pilgrims.
When their uncle introduced this time his ancient formula
about the certainty of brilliant sunshine in the morning,
they somehow felt like believing him.
"Yes--I really think it must change," Julia declared,
with her fascinated glance upon the photographs.
Alfred looked at his watch. "We'd better get along
to the hotel, hadn't we?" he suggested.
"By the way"--Thorpe began, with a certain uneasiness
of manner--"speaking of dinner, wouldn't you like to dine
at the big table d'hote, instead of up in our sitting-room?"
"If you're tired of our dining alone--by all means,"
answered Julia, readily. There was obvious surprise,
however, in both her look and tone.
"Tired nothing!" he assured her. "I like it better
than anything else in the world. But what I mean is--I
was thinking, seeing that this is such a great winter-
resort, and all the swagger people of Europe come here--
that probably you youngsters would enjoy seeing the crowd.


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