"'You should see Edith Parker, Mark. She is so different from the
girls of Black Log. Her father is head book-keeper in the store, and
he has been very good to me. Last week he took me home to dinner with
him. He has a nice house in Brooklyn. His wife is dead, and he has
just his daughter. We have no women in Black Log that compare to her.
She is tall and slender and has fair hair and blue eyes.'"
"I hate fair-haired women," broke in Mary with some asperity. "They
are so vain."
"I agree with you," said I. "That is invariably the case, and dark
hair is so much more beautiful; but we must make allowance for Tim.
Let us see--'fair hair and blue eyes and the sweetest face'--I do
believe that brother of mine is out of his head to write such stuff."
"He certainly is," said Mary, very quietly.
"Poor Tim! But go on."
"'We played cards together for a while, till old Mr. Parker went asleep
in his chair, and then Edith and I had a chance to talk. You know,
Mark, I've always been a bit afraid of women, and awkward and ill at
ease around them.
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