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Oemler, Marie Conway, 1879-1932

"A Woman Named Smith"


"Shall you, Richard?" muttered Miss Hopkins, and scuttled up her
front path,
Like one who in a lonesome wood
Doth walk in fear and dread,
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread!
By and large, I should say that the honors were with Alicia.
The Author's secretary was pacing up and down the garden when we
reached home, with Potty Black careering after him and every now and
then dashing into the shrubbery to put to flight Beautiful Dog, who
was also enamored of the young man with the nice smile and the good
brown eyes. He had a great affection for animals, as they seemed to
understand.
Beautiful Dog laid aside, for his sake, his fear of white people,
and slunk after him fawningly, wagging what did duty as a tail, and
showing every tooth in an ear-to-ear grin. At sight of us, Beautiful
Dog gave a dismal yelp and disappeared.
"Let's sit in the library," coaxed the secretary. "I want you
please to allow me to hold in my hands your copy of 'Purchas his
Pilgrimes.' The Author dreams about that book out loud. Oh, yes,
another thing I want to ask you: what sort of perfume do you use,
and where do you get it?"
My scalp prickled.


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