"
She let her duties go and sauntered down to the lake. Many painted boats
were anchored close to ornamental boat-houses. They seemed strangely out
of place beneath the sad old willows. The lawns were green with the
green of spring. Roses ran riot everywhere. The windows of the handsome
old-fashioned houses were open, and Abby was afforded glimpses of
fluttering white gowns, heard the tinkle of the mandolin, the cold
precise strains of the piano, the sudden uplifting of a youthful
soprano.
"After all, it only makes a little difference to them that they got
nothing," thought the companion, with a sigh.
A young man stepped from one of the long windows of the Holt mansion and
came down the lawn. Miss Williams recognized Strowbridge. She had not
seen him for several weeks; but he had had his part in her bitter
moments, and her heart beat at sight of him to-day.
"I too am a fool," she thought. "Even with her money my case would be
hopeless. I am nearly double his age."
He jumped into a boat and rowed down the lake. As he passed the Webster
grounds he looked up and saw Abby standing there.
"Hulloa!" he called, as if he were addressing a girl of sixteen. "How
are you, all these years? Jump in and take a row.
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