An hour afterward, Mrs. Purcell joined Mrs. McLean.
"So that is Mr. Raleigh, is it?" she said. "He looks as if he had made
the acquaintance of Siva the Destroyer. There's nothing left of him. Is
he taller, or thinner, or graver, or darker, or what? My dear Kate, your
cousin, that promised to be such a hero, has become a mere
man-of-business. Did you ever burn firecrackers? You have probably found
some that just fizzed out, then." And Mrs. Purcell took an attitude.
"Roger is a much finer man than he was, I think,--so far as I could
judge in the short time we have seen each other," replied Mrs. McLean,
with spirit.
"Do you know," continued Mrs. Purcell, "what makes the Laudersdale so
gay? No? She has a letter from her lord, and he brings you that little
Rite next week. I must send for the Colonel to see such patterns of
conjugal felicity as you and she. Ah, there is the tea-bell!"
Mr. Raleigh was standing with one hand on the back of his chair, when
Mrs. Laudersdale entered. The cheek had resumed its usual pallor, and
she was in her customary colors of black and gold. She carried a
curiously cut crystal glass, which she placed on the sideboard, and then
moved toward her chair.
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