No billiards, no hops, no pwetty girls, no sailing, no wides on
the beach, no pwomenades on the moonlight side of the piazza. No, my
deah, Nahant is stupid till the curwent sets that way."
"Southern visitors warm the coast like the Gulf Stream, I suppose,"
said Greenleaf.
"Pwecisely so,"--then, after the idea had reached his brain, adding,
"Vewy good, Mr. Gweenleaf! Vewy good!"
The soiree ended as all seasons of pleasure must, and without the dance
on which Charles had set his heart. The friends walked home together.
Greenleaf was rather silent, but Easelmann at last made him talk.
"What do you think of the beauty, now?" the elder asked.
"Still brilliant, bewitching, dangerous."
"You are not afraid of her?"
"Upon my soul, I believe I am."
"What has frightened you? What faults or defects have you seen?"
"Two. One is, she uses perfumes too freely. Stop that laugh of yours!
It's a trifling thing, but it is an indication. I don't like it."
"Fastidious man, what next? Has she more hairs on one eyebrow than the
other? Or did you see a freckle of the size of a fly's foot?"
"The second is in her manner, which, in spite of its ease and apparent
artlessness, has too much method in it.
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