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To the portico fro with the cheerful faetic sentence, Mabel looked over her shoulder

"Who of us is fated to be pitied, did you say, Rosa dear?"

"Never yourself!" was the curt reply "Rest content with that

assurance"

Her restless fingers began to gather the red leaves that already

variegated the foliage of the creeper shading the porch Strangely

indisposed to answer her anie the implied compliment to his betrothed,

Frederic watched the lithe, dark hands, as they overfloith the

vermilion trophies of autuh

the vines in patches upon the floor; the low laughter and blended

voices of the four talkers; the echo of Tohter footfall, were all jocund htness of the day and world What was the spell by which this