MADAME DE TREYMES
sister is the black sheep of the family—the rest of us never sank as low as that."
"Low? I think it's beautiful—fresh and innocent and simple. I remember going to such a place once. They have early dinner—rather late—and go off in buckboards over terrible roads, and bring back goldenrod and autumn leaves, and read nature books aloud on the piazza; and there is always one shy young man in flannels only one who has come to see the prettiest girl (though how he can choose among so many!) and who takes her off in a buggy for hours and hours———" She paused and summed up with a long sigh: "It is fifteen years since I was in America."
"And you're still so good an American."
"Oh, a better and better one everyday!"
He hesitated. "Then why did you never come back?"
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