[Colonel Starbottle’s Client and Other Stories by Bret Harte]@TWC D-Link bookColonel Starbottle’s Client and Other Stories CHAPTER III 9/15
A suit of cheap black, ill fitting, hastily acquired, and provincial even for Pineville, painfully set off these imperfections, to which a white cravat in a hopelessly tied bow was superadded.
A terrible idea that this combination of a country undertaker and an ill-paid circuit preacher on probation was his best holiday tribute to her, and not a funeral offering to Mr.Jeffcourt, took possession of her.
And when, with feminine quickness, she saw his eyes wander over her own fine clothes and festal figure, and sink again upon the floor in a kind of hopeless disappointment equal to her own, she felt ready to cry.
But the more terrible sound of laughter approaching the house from the garden recalled her.
Her friends were coming. "For Heaven's sake," she broke out desperately, "didn't you get my note at the station telling you not to come ?" His face grew darker, and then took up its look of hopeless resignation, as if this last misfortune was only an accepted part of his greater trouble, as he sat down again, and to Miss Sally's horror, listlessly swung his hat to and fro under his chair. "No," he said, gloomily, "I didn't go to no station.
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