When he returned
to New York, he was more than half in love with her.
"Mr. Armand has not been to see us once this fall," said Adeline,
one evening in October. They were sitting in a handsomely furnished
parlor in a neat dwelling, comfortable and commodious, but not so
splendid as the one they had occupied a few months previous. Mr.
Ludlow's affairs had become so embarrassed, that he determined, in
spite of the opposition of his family, to reduce his expenses. This
resolution he carried out amid tears and remonstrances--for he could
not do it in any other way.
"Who could expect him to come _here?_" Emily replied, to the remark
of her sister. "Not I, certainly."
"I don't believe that would make any difference with him," Florence
ventured to say, for it was little that she could say, that did not
meet with opposition.
"Why don't you?" asked Adeline.
"Because Mary Jones--"
"Mary Jones again!" ejaculated Emily. "I believe you don't think of
anybody but Mary Jones. I'm surprised that Ma lets you visit that
girl!"
"As good people as I am visit her," replied Florence. "I've seen
those there who would be welcome here.
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