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Oemler, Marie Conway, 1879-1932

"A Woman Named Smith"


"This is very pleasant!" he sighed. Presently: "Your hair looks just
as a woman's hair ought to look, under that brown hat," he said
drowsily, "soft and fair. And after this, I shall order some
brown-silk cushion-covers. I never knew anything could feel so
comfortable and restful!" He closed his eyes.
I sat there, hands locked tightly together, and looked down at his
beautiful head, his slim and boyish body; and I felt an aching sense
of resentment. No man has any business to be like that, and then
come into the life of a woman named Smith.
He did not move, nor did I. We might have been creatures motionless
under a spell, in that Enchanted Wood; until from the outside world
came Boris, carrying a wicker basket, in which sandwiches, fruit, a
small bottle of wine, and a silver drinking-cup had been carefully
packed.
"Boris is used to playing courier." His master patted him
affectionately. "Come, Miss Smith. By the way, that isn't your real
name, though. Your name is Woman-in-the-Woods. Mine is--"
"Fortunatus."
He raised his brows. "I was about to say 'Man-who-is-Hungry,'"
he finished, pleasantly. "I once knew an Indian named
Tail-feathers-going-over-the-Hill.


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