"You must stop me, Maggie, if I hurt your feelings. But
really! . . . Why, if poor father had treated me like that I'd
have gone straight out of the house and never come back. I would
indeed . . . Well, here you are now, dear, and we must just see each
other as often as ever we can!"
They made a strange contrast, Maggie so plain in her black dress
with her hair that always looked as though it had been cut short
like a boy's, her strong rough movements, and Caroline, so neat and
shining and entirely feminine that her only business in the world
seemed to be to fascinate, beguile and bewilder the opposite sex.
Whatever the aunts may have thought of this new friendship, they
said nothing. Caroline had her way with them as with every one else.
Maggie wondered often as to Aunt Anne's, real thoughts. But Aunt
Anne only smiled her dim cold smile, gave her cold hand into the
girl's warm one and said, "Good afternoon, Caroline. I hope your
father and mother are well." "They're dears, you know," Caroline
said to Maggie; "I do admire your Aunt Anne; she keeps to herself
so. I wish I could keep to myself, but I never was able to.
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