But Jean lived in the more fashionable section
beyond Dupont Circle. Her father was a doctor with a practice among
the older district people, who, in spite of changing administrations
and fluctuating populations, had managed, to preserve their family
traditions and social identity.
Dr. McKenzie did not always dine at home. But tonight when Jean came
down he was at the head of the table. He was a big, handsome man with
crinkled hair like his daughter's, copper-colored and cut close to his
rather classic head.
Hilda Merritt was also at the table. She was a trained nurse, who,
having begun life as the Doctor's office-girl, had, gradually, after
his wife's death, assumed the management of his household. Jean was
not fond of her. She had repeatedly begged that her dear Emily might
take Miss Merritt's place.
"But Hilda is much younger," her father had contended, "and much more
of a companion for you."
"She isn't a companion at all, Daddy. We haven't the same thoughts."
But Hilda had stayed on, and Jean had sought her dear Emily's company
in the little shop. Sometimes she waited on customers.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25