For Love Alone Read Online Free PDF Page B

cousin, a husky-voiced, long-legged brunette, had her engagement party in January, a cool day for summer and they had both gone out to the cottage at Roseville, to see the man, Tom Swann, to see how Tina took it. It was a blowy,sandy day. Tina, with thick dark brows and large eyes, was sullen, or timid—which? They helped to carry out tables into the back garden and there, shifting his feet, near a privet hedge was a starved little man with stiff black hair. “What do you say his name is?” “Tom Swann.” She’ll be Mrs Swann then, from Hawkins to Swann; not a bad exchange. “It’s a black Swann,” said Aunt Bea, who had already nine times offered the joke, “Her goose is a Swann.” Each girl met the groom-to-be, Tom, and to each he was very kind and modest, saying: “I’m your new cousin. How are you, cousin? Call me Tom.” Later Tina sat with him and Anne at one table, while the others looked at them; Tina, who knew what they were thinking, was awkward, flushed and dropped her eyes. He was counterman at a sandwich-shop where she worked.
    It might have been Tina’s engagement that made Malfi March send her wedding invitations out so soon. Harry Bedloe was another of those small, underfed men. Teresa suffered for herself and for the other girls; each year now counted against them; nineteen, and has she a boy-friend? Twenty, and does she like anyone particularly? Twenty-one, now she has the key of the door; she ought to be looking round! Twenty-two already! Twenty-three and not engaged yet? Twenty-four and not even a nibble? I’ll never be one of those women on the boat, thought Teresa, never fail, never fail like Kitty, never fail like Malfi, never live the life of shame.
    â€œWill you wear white when you get married?” asked Kitty. Teresa had never thought of getting married, however. Now, with a start, she saw herself in front of a staring crowd, with pressing bosoms and shoulders and staring, glad eyes. Some faceless, memberless heavy shadow stood somewhere near, keeping her company, a man yet unborn in her life.
    â€œWould you wear orange-blossom, a veil and all that ?” continued Kitty. “I don’t like brides to wear a coat and skirt, although I suppose it’s more practical.”
    This was a burning question in their circle. If a girl wore a long satin gown, she had to have bridesmaids. Then came the questions,How many, whom to ask without heartburnings and without financial hurt, and how to have a pretty wedding without impudent display. Teresa thought over all these arguments without coming to any decision; at last, she said:
    â€œWell, I’d have a bouquet of red rosebuds.”
    â€œThen you couldn’t wear white satin, Terry,” concluded Kitty.
    â€œNo,” mused Teresa. After a pause she said: “Yellow satin would be marvellous, wouldn’t it, and you know, stiff heavy yellow lace.”
    â€œFor a wedding dress! What could you use it for, after?”
    â€œYes, you’d just have to keep it.”
    â€œOr for an evening dress.”
    â€œNo, you know how they always giggle—she turned up in her wedding dress dyed.”
    â€œI’d have something you could make over,” said Kitty virtuously. “I think it’s a silly waste when you need the money for other things.”
    â€œYou would look wonderful in eggshell satin, with old lace,” continued Teresa, looking her up and down, “with your dark skin and eyes.”
    Her sister smiled and meditated.
    â€œWhen you get married, I’ll give you fifty things,” Teresa said. “Fifty, don’t forget.”
    â€œWill you really ?”
    The girls were silent for a while, until Kitty stirring and sighing, said: “Don’t you think we ought to go in out of the heat? My dress is sticking to me.”
    â€œI’m spouting rivers,” said Teresa, “but I like it.”
    She admitted that they