Morrison, you will be a marked man--
outside the pale of friendship with real American men and the respect of
real American girls."
Morrison leaped up, almost knocking the table over, and he glared at Carley
as he gathered up his hat and cane. She turned her back upon him. From that
moment he ceased to exist for Carley. She never spoke to him again.
Next day Carley called upon her dearest friend, whom she had not seen for
some time.
"Carley dear, you don't look so very well," said Eleanor, after greetings
had been exchanged.
"Oh, what does it matter how I look?" queried Carley, impatiently.
"You were so wonderful when you got home from Arizona."
"If I was wonderful and am now commonplace you can thank your old New York
for it."
"Carley, don't you care for New York any more?" asked Eleanor.
"Oh, New York is all right, I suppose. It's I who am wrong."
"My dear, you puzzle me these days. You've changed. I'm sorry. I'm afraid
you're unhappy."
"Me? Oh, impossible! I'm in a seventh heaven," replied Carley, with a hard
little laugh. "What 're you doing this afternoon? Let's go out--riding--or
somewhere."
"I'm expecting the dressmaker."
"Where are you going to-night?"
"Dinner and theater.
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