He asked
Julia what books she liked, and, surprised that she knew nothing of
Browning, he sent her a great volume of his poetry, a leather-bound
exquisite edition that Jim had taken some trouble to find. With the book
came a box of violets, and Julia, opening the package, suddenly
remembered that he was a rich man, and stood, flushed and palpitating to
a thousand emotions, looking down at the damp, fragrant flowers.
She wore a few violets at the breast of her sober little gown when she
met Mark on Sunday for the promised walk. Julia had been most reluctant
to go, but Maude had been moved to her own home, and the child's father
was sitting with her, so that Julia had no excuse to visit her.
"I want to show you something--something you'll like!" said Mark
eagerly. "We take the Sixteenth Street car and transfer down
Sacramento."
Julia accepted his guidance good-naturedly, and they crossed the city,
which lay in a clear wash of the warm September sunlight. Mark led Julia
finally to the ornate door of a new apartment house in Sacramento
Street.
"What is it, Mark?" the girl asked, as they went in.
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