Mary Stewart Cutting

Mary Stewart Cutting

Summary

Portrait of Mary Stewart Cutting Mary Stewart Cutting Their Second Marriage

Waring severely. The gossip of servants, the trivial conversation and fulsome pity of vulgar neighbors, was this all that was left to her?
She went downstairs again, and sat in the drawing-room, inside of the window curtains, and wept. The gathering dusk seemed to prefigure the gloom that was to encompass her future years. If people only wouldn't pity her she might be able to live; the children would love her at any rate. Six years ago how happy she was, how dear his eyes looked when he gave her that first married kiss! She could smell even now the fragrance of the bride roses that she held.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mary Stewart Cutting Mary Stewart Cutting Their Second Marriage

Waring sat with her bride roses in one hand, and the other tucked secretly into Henry's under cover of her wrap, was ever any woman happier? Had ever any girl a lover more devoted or more bubbling over with fun? Romeo and Juliet—what were they to a real married couple of to-day? Then the supper afterward with the gay throng at the Waldorf—the reckless disregard of the midnight train—could there be dizzier heights of revelry?
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mary Stewart Cutting Mary Stewart Cutting Their Second Marriage

By Mary Stewart Cutting, "HENRY, do you know what day Thursday will be?"
"Thursday? The twenty-first."
"Yes, and what will the twenty-first be?"
"Thursday."
"Oh, Henry!" Pretty Mrs. Waring looked tragically across the breakfast-table at her husband, or rather at the newspaper that screened him completely from her view. "Do put down that paper for a moment. I never get a chance to speak to you any more in the morning, and I have to spend the whole day alone. Do you really mean to say that you don't know what the twenty-first is?"
Source: Wikisource

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