Ida May Bostwick had a brain explosion one day when she considered
these all-too-evident facts. She said:
"I bet _that_ fellow wouldn't expect his wife to stand behind a lace
counter and take the sass of floorwalkers and buyers, as well as
lady customers, all day long. Not much! He's a regular guy, if he is
a hick. My gracious! Don't I wish he'd come back! If I ever get my
claws on him again--"
Just what she might do to Tunis under those circumstances she did
not even explain to herself. But she began to think of Tunis a good
deal. He was a good-looking man, too. And he spent freely. Ida May
Bostwick remembered the lunch at Barquette's.
It was true that Sarah Honey had been all Prudence Ball and Aunt
Lucretia Latham and other Wreckers' Head folk believed her to be.
But she died when Ida May was small, and the girl had been brought
up wholly under the influence of the Bostwicks. That family had
lacked refinement and breeding and graciousness of manner to a
degree that would have amazed and shocked Sarah Honey's relatives
down on the Cape.
Not that the girl thought of Tunis Latham's refinement with any
wistfulness. She thought of his well-filled wallet, that he was
something more than a common sailor, that he undoubtedly owned a
good home, even if it was down at Big Wreck Cove, and that he seemed
"soft" and "easy.
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