Colonel McIntyre had married when quite a young man. Frugality and
industry and a brilliant mind had reaped their reward, and, wiser
than the majority of Americans, he retired early from business and
devoted himself to a life of leisure and the education of his
daughters. Their debut the previous autumn had been one of the
social events of the Washington season, and the instant popularity
the girls had attained proved a source of pride to Colonel McIntyre.
His chief pleasure consisted in gratifying their every whim, and
Dr. Stone, knowing the family as he did, wondered at the faintly
discernible air of constraint in the girl's manner. Usually frank
to a sometimes embarrassing degree, she appeared to some disadvantage
as she sat gazing moodily at the tips of her patent-leather pumps.
Dr. Stone's attention shifted to Colonel McIntyre and lastly to
the pretty widow at his elbow. Had Dame Rumor spoken truly in the
report, widely circulated, that the colonel had fallen a victim to
the charms of Margaret Brewster, his daughters' guest? If so, it
might account for the young girl's manner - however devoted
McIntyre's daughters might be to Mrs.
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