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Kilpatrick, Florence A. (Florence Antoinette), 1888-

"Our Elizabeth A Humour Novel"

'E isn't arf a one.'
'It seems he isn't,' I agreed. And I sent up a silent prayer of
thankfulness to Heaven and the Domestic Bureau. 'But what about the
Amalgamated boilermaker?'
'Oh, 'im!' She tossed her head. ''E can go to--Manchester.'


CHAPTER XI
'Have you observed William closely, recently, Netta?' Henry asked me.
'Something seems to have happened to him?'
'Why should I observe William?' I demanded, puzzled, 'he is not the
sort of man a woman would observe, closely or otherwise.'
'That is exactly one of the reasons why I like him--you leave him
alone,' remarked that horrid Henry. 'I can talk to him without your
distracting his attention by flirting with him.'
I felt wounded. 'Henry, this is monstrous.'
'You cannot deny, my dear, that I have brought men--fluent
conversationalists--round here for a pleasant evening's debate only to
see them become abstracted and monosyllabic directly you appear.'
'You can't blame me for that, Henry.'
'Yes, I do. You deliberately seek to interest them. I've seen you at
it. You spare no pains or powder to gain your object. Don't dare to
deny it.'
Chastened, I replied meekly: 'Dear Henry, I love my
fellow-creatures--if they haven't beards,' I added hastily. 'After
all, doesn't the Scripture command it?'
'But you don't love William.'
'The Scripture says nothing at all about William,' I replied decidedly.


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