Years after,
and Dora Deane remembered that summer night, when, on the hard
green trunk, she slept so soundly as not to hear the angry voice
of Eugenia, who came home sadly out of humor with herself and the
world at large.
At breakfast, next morning, she was hardly on speaking terms with
her sister, while _Stephen Grey_ was pronounced "a perfect
bore-a baboon, with more hair than brains."
"And to that I should not suppose you would object" said Alice,
mischievously." You might find it useful in case of an emergency."
To this there was no reply, save an angry flash of the black eyes,
which, it seems, had failed to interest Stephen Grey, who was far
better pleased with the unassuming Alice, and who had paid the
haughty Eugenia no attention whatever, except, indeed, to plant
his patent leather boot upon one of her lace flounces, tearing it
half off, and leaving a sad rent, which could not well be mended.
This, then, was the cause of her wrath, which continued for some
time; when really wishing to talk over the events.
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