I gathered up my crutches and the letter. I gathered up my wits again.
"There's where I feel like Tim, indeed," I said.
"I don't think I should like this lofty Edith," the girl exclaimed.
"What a pompous word it is--Edith! Tim is ambitious. I suppose he
rolls that name over and over in his mind."
It seemed that Mary was unnecessarily sharp toward a young woman she
had never seen and of whom she had as yet heard nothing but good.
While for myself I felt a certain resentment at Tim for his praise of
this girl and the condescending references to my misfortune in never
having seen her like, I had for him a certain keen sympathy and hope
for his success. I had a certain sympathy for Edith, too, for a man in
love, if unrestrained in his praise, will make a plain, sensible,
motherly girl look like a frivolous fool. Perhaps in this case Edith
was the victim. I suggested this to Mary, and she laughed softly.
"Perhaps so," she said. "But I must admit it irritates me to see our
Tim lose his head over a stranger.
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