He really
talks, sometimes, as if he had the world in a sling and could toss
it up among the stars. As far as my observation goes, such people
flourish only for a season."
"If Delia were a child of mine," said my good Constance, in her
earnest way, "I would a thousand times rather trust her with Henry
Wallingford than with Ralph Dewey."
"Yes, and a thousand millions of times," responded Mrs. Dean. "He is
a man. You know just what he is, and where he is. But, as for this
splashing nephew of Judge Bigelow's--who knows what's below the
surface? Delia's father is all taken up with him, and thinks the
match a splendid one. Sister don't say much; but I can see that she
has her misgivings. I can talk to you freely, you know."
"I don't think," said I, "that Delia has grown more cheerful since
her engagement. Brides expectant ought to feel as happy as the day
is long."
"More cheerful? Oh, dear, no! She isn't the same that she was at
all; but mopes about more than half of her time. It's just my
opinion--spoken between friends--that she cares, now, a great deal
more for Henry than she does for Ralph.
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