She could not dwell upon her
plans for employment. She felt as if she had found her mission, her
true trade,--which was to walk in gardens and smell hot-house roses.
The perplexities which filled Farnham's head as to what he should do
with her found no counterpart in hers. She had stopped thinking and
planning; things were going very well with her as it was. She had lost
the place she had wished and expected, and yet this was the pleasantest
day of her life. Her responsibility seemed shifted to stronger hands.
It had become Farnham's business to find something nice for her: this
would be easy for him; he belonged to the class to whom everything is
easy. She did not even trouble herself to think what it would be as she
loitered home in the sunshine. She saw her father and informed him in a
few words of her failure; then went to her room and sat down by her
window, and looked for hours at the sparkling lake.
She was called to supper in the midst of her reverie. She was just
saying to herself, "If there was just one man and one woman in the
world, and I had the picking out of the man and the woman, this world
would suit me pretty well.
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