Books > Old Books > The Collected Short Stories Of Ring Lander (1924)


Page 214

ROUND UP

You can imagine that things were not as I expected they would be. In New York and in Chicago and Yellowstone, she had had more life than any girl I ever met. Now she acted all the while as if she were playing the title role at a funeral.
One night late in May the telephone rang. It was Mrs. Dwan and she wanted Florence. If I had known what this was going to mean, I would have slapped the receiver back on the hook and let her keep on wanting.
I had met Dwan a couple of times and had heard about their place out on the Turnpike. But I had never seen it or his wife either.
Well, it developed that Mildred Dwan had gone to school with Florence and Marjorie Paxton, and she had just learned from 11Iarjorie that Florence was my wife and living here. She said she and her husband would be in town and call on us the next Sunday afternoon.
''+lorence didn't seem to like the idea and kind of discouraged it. She said we would drive out and call on them instead. Mrs. Dwan said no, that Florence was the newcomer and it was her (Airs. Dwan's) first move. So Florence gave in.
They came and they hadn't been in the house more than a minute when Florence began to cry. Mrs. Dwan cried, too, and Dwan and I stood there first on one foot and then the other, trying to pretend we didn't know the girls were crying. Finally, to relieve the tension, I invited him to come and see the rest of the place. I showed him all over and he was quite enthusiastic. When we returned to the living-room, the girls had dried their eyes and were back in school together.
Florence accepted an invitation for one-o'clock dinner a week from that day. I told her, after they had left, that I would go along only on condition that she and our hostess would both control their tear-ducts. I was so accustomed to solo sobbing that I didn't mind it any more, but I couldn't stand a duet of it either in harmony or unison.
Well, when we got out there and had driven down their private lane through the trees and caught a glimpse of their house, which people around town had been talking about as something wonderful, I laughed harder than any time since I was single. It looked just like what it was, a reorganized barn. Florence asked me what was funny, and when I told her, she pulled even a longer face than usual.
" I think it's beautiful," she said.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE You can imagine that things were not as I expected they would be. In New York and in Chicago and Yellowstone, she had had more life than any girl I ever met. Now she acted all what is while as if she were playing what is title role at a funeral. One night late in May what is telephone rang. It was Mrs. Dwan and she wanted Florence. If I had known what this was going to mean, I would have slapped what is receiver back on what is hook and let her keep on wanting. I had met Dwan a couple of times and had heard about their place out on what is Turnpike. But I had never seen it or his wife either. Well, it developed that Mildred Dwan had gone to school with Florence and Marjorie Paxton, and she had just learned from 11Iarjorie that Florence was my wife and living here. She said she and her husband would be in town and call on us what is next Sunday afternoon. ''+lorence didn't seem to like what is idea and kind of discouraged it. She said we would drive out and call on them instead. Mrs. Dwan said no, that Florence was what is newcomer and it was her (Airs. Dwan's) first move. So Florence gave in. They came and they hadn't been in what is house more than a minute when Florence began to cry. Mrs. Dwan cried, too, and Dwan and I stood there first on one foot and then what is other, trying to pretend we didn't know what is girls were crying. Finally, to relieve what is tension, I invited him to come and see what is rest of what is place. I showed him all over and he was quite enthusiastic. When we returned to what is living-room, what is girls had dried their eyes and were back in school together. Florence accepted an invitation for one-o'clock dinner a week from that day. I told her, after they had left, that I would go along only on condition that she and our hostess would both control their tear-ducts. I was so accustomed to solo sobbing that I didn't mind it any more, but I couldn't stand a duet of it either in harmony or unison. Well, when we got out there and had driven down their private lane through what is trees and caught a glimpse of their house, which people around town had been talking about as something wonderful, I laughed harder than any time since I was single. It looked just like what it was, a reorganized barn. Florence asked me what was funny, and when I told her, she pulled even a longer face than usual. " I think it's beautiful," she said. old books, Free book online, old book: what is Collected Short Stories Of Ring Lander (1924) where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" title="The Collected Short Stories Of Ring Lander (1924)" The Collected Short Stories Of Ring Lander (1924) where is table width="729" border="0" align="center" where is center where is tr where is td height="61" where is hr where is script type="text/javascript" google_hints = "books,old books,magazines,old story"; google_ad_width = 728; google_ad_height = 90; google_ad_format = "728x90_as"; google_ad_type = "text"; google_ad_channel =""; google_color_border = "FFFFFF"; google_color_bg = "FFFFFF"; google_color_ where are they now = "800000"; google_color_url = "800000"; google_color_text = "000000"; //-- where is /script where is script type="text/javascript" src="http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js" where is /script where is hr where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is script type="text/javascript" google_hints = "books,old books,magazines,old story"; google_ad_width = 160; google_ad_height = 600; google_ad_format = "160x600_as"; google_ad_type = "text_image"; google_ad_channel =""; google_color_border = "FFFFFF"; google_color_bg = "FFFFFF"; google_color_ where are they now = "800000"; google_color_url = "800000"; google_color_text = "000000"; //-- where is /script where is script type="text/javascript" src="http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js" where is /script where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="left" where is p align="left" Page 214 where is p align="center" where is strong ROUND UP where is p align="left" You can imagine that things were not as I expected they would be. In New York and in Chicago and Yellowstone, she had had more life than any girl I ever met. Now she acted all what is while as if she were playing what is title role at a funeral. One night late in May what is telephone rang. It was Mrs. Dwan and she wanted Florence. If I had known what this was going to mean, I would have slapped what is receiver back on what is hook and let her keep on wanting. I had met Dwan a couple of times and had heard about their place out on what is Turnpike. But I had never seen it or his wife either. Well, it developed that Mildred Dwan had gone to school with Florence and Marjorie Paxton, and she had just learned from 11Iarjorie that Florence was my wife and living here. She said she and her husband would be in town and call on us what is next Sunday afternoon. ''+lorence didn't seem to like what is idea and kind of discouraged it. She said we would drive out and call on them instead. Mrs. Dwan said no, that Florence was what is newcomer and it was her (Airs. Dwan's) first move. So Florence gave in. They came and they hadn't been in what is house more than a minute when Florence began to cry. Mrs. Dwan cried, too, and Dwan and I stood there first on one foot and then what is other, trying to pretend we didn't know what is girls were crying. Finally, to relieve what is tension, I invited him to come and see what is rest of what is place. I showed him all over and he was quite enthusiastic. When we returned to what is living-room, what is girls had dried their eyes and were back in school together. Florence accepted an invitation for one-o'clock dinner a week from that day. I told her, after they had left, that I would go along only on condition that she and our hostess would both control their tear-ducts. I was so accustomed to solo sobbing that I didn't mind it any more, but I couldn't stand a duet of it either in harmony or unison. Well, when we got out there and had driven down their private lane through what is trees and caught a glimpse of their house, which people around town had been talking about as something wonderful, I laughed harder than any time since I was single. It looked just like what it was, a reorganized barn. Florence asked me what was funny, and when I told her, she pulled even a longer face than usual. " I think it's beautiful," she said. where is tr where is td height="72" colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" where is script type="text/javascript" google_hints = "books,old books,magazines,old story"; google_ad_width = 728; google_ad_height = 90; google_ad_format = "728x90_as"; google_ad_type = "text"; google_ad_channel =""; google_color_border = "FFFFFF"; google_color_bg = "FFFFFF"; google_color_ where are they now = "800000"; google_color_url = "800000"; google_color_text = "000000"; //-- where is /script where is script type="text/javascript" src="http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js" where is /script where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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