A Fountain Sealed
m rather empty and undecorated, but the idea of austerity was banished by a temperature so nearly tropical. There were rows
en, most of them young mothers, with smooth heads and earnest faces, holding babies. Outside, the snow was heaped high along the pavements and thickly ridged the roofs and lintels. After the blizzard the
lar, a brown tie and an old-fashioned gold watch-chain. Her forehead was too large, her nose too short; but her lips were full and pleasant and when she smiled she showed charming teeth. The black-rimmed glasses she wore emphasized the clearness and candor of her eyes. Her thick, fair hair was firmly fastened in a group o
her hair unusually black, her velvety eyes unusually large and dark. In. her attitude, lounging, graceful, indifferent, in her delicate face, the straight, sulky brows, the coldly closed
e was clean-shaven, with brown skin and golden hair, an unruly lock lying athwart his forehead. His face, intent, alert, was veiled in an indolent nonch
cing, hunting, yachting existence by the arduous study of biology. Jack, in appearance more ambiguous than either, looked neither useful nor ornamental; but, in point of fact, he was a much occupied person. He painted very seriously, was something of a scholar and devoted much of his time and most of his large fortune to intricate benevolences. His shabby clothes were assumed, like the air of indolence; his wealth irked him and, full of a democratic transcendentalism, he longed to efface all the signs that separated him from the average toiler. While Rose was quite ignorant of her own country west of the Atlantic seaboard, J
k Pennington. "There would never
inks what a grief it is
a
ose Packer remarked, not at all aggressiv
ime," said Pennington, casting a glance mo
ably pretty-though I've always thought her nose too small; and
s, literatures, sciences-in so far as a young and very busy girl can master them, and that very wise men are glad to talk to her; but it's not of that one thinks-no
you are, Molly. And after a
supports all sorts of charities, all sorts of reforms; she is the wisest, sweetest of hostesses; she take
-I hardly knew him; Eddy, however, I do know, very wel
Mr. Upton,-you know," Mary spoke very
better, I know her herself a
all a frivolous and heartless woman, who practically deserted her husband
," said Rose, "and most
hat I've heard
e you hea
as a bomba
ored. "Try to remember, Rose,
e different n
d know him. I saw a great deal of him during t
talk like this, if you r
ardly understand a man like Mr. Upton. Simply what he did for civic reform,-worked himself to death over it. And his books on ethics, politics. It isn't a ques
his work for civic reform amounted to very little and that his books were thin and unoriginal. A
in some ways ineffectual; but he was a good
on Pennington. He had been listening with an air of light inattention and now he answere
ary, redder than before, rejoined in a low voice, "I didn't expec
judging him
aid Rose, "that it's no wond
e clear his disagreement. "I don't know of any reason that Mrs.
ft? Isn't it merely th
own country? among thei
ery year with them. There
t lead the kind of life she wanted to lead-the kind of life she leads in England-one of mere pleasure and self-indulgent ease. She hasn't the faintest conception
s. It requires more thought to look like a saint in velvet than to go to the best dressmaker a
t beg of you
ing nothing
g now, what you say sounds cruelly ir
iddle of the room looking down at Mary. "I must be off. I'll bring you those boo
f intimate equality in the relations of these young people may be gag
and if one wants to understand mod
erything," said Mary. "A
ctionary w
ose, "pray shut the register.
ng of Rose's complaint, for it was evident she had much displeased him. "I'
n feeling it much? Leave th
of disapprobation, upon me, Jac
ild, Rose, sometimes," was
se, when he was gone. "While you are not-you
ealize, Rose, how yo
ned wide eyes
hat he is devoted
devoted to her,
ar-in love with her,
he pause in which she seemed, though unrepentantly, to acquie
so; I h
e discontent gave way to an affectionate compunction. "The truth is, Mary, that I'm jealous; I'm petty; I
o be naughtier than you really are, I can't be angry with you. But it
ar! Am
ly yo
a saint in velvet?-and like h
because they are wonderful. One is glad of them and one longs to share them. It's on
-tender, meaning, on her friend; but she only said, "I shall remain in love with you