* * * * *
She was "all the rage" that winter at the provincial capital. The
men called her a "deuced fine little woman." The ladies said she
was "just the sweetest wildflower." Whereas she was really but an
ordinary, pale, dark girl who spoke slowly and with a strong accent,
who danced fairly well, sang acceptably, and never stirred outside
the door without her husband.
Charlie was proud of her; he was proud that she had "taken" so well
among his friend, proud that she bore herself so complacently in
the drawing-rooms of the wives of pompous Government officials, but
doubly proud of her almost abject devotion to him. If ever human
being was worshipped that being was Charlie McDonald; it could
scarcely have been otherwise, for the almost godlike strength of his
passion for that little wife of his would have mastered and melted
a far more invincible citadel than an already affectionate woman's
heart.
Favorites socially, McDonald and his wife went everywhere. In
fashionable circles she was "new"--a potent charm to acquire
popularity, and the little velvet-clad figure was always the centre
of interest among all the women in the room. She always dressed in
velvet.
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