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Alice Adams
Booth Tarkington, Arthur William Brown, Donald Gray
1961-2011
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Excerpt: CHAPTER III MRS. ADAMS had remained in Alice's room, but her mood seemed to have changed, during her daughter's little more than t momentary absence. "What did he say?" she asked, quickly, and her tone was hopeful. "'Say?'" Alice repeated, impatiently. "Why, nothing. I didn't let him. Really, mama, I think the best thing for you to do would be to just keep out of his room, because I don't believe you can go in there and not talk to him about it, and if you do talk we'll never get him to do the right thing. Never!" The mother's response was a grieving silence; she turned from her daughter and walked to the door. "Now, for goodness' sake!" Alice cried. "Don't go making tragedy out of my offering you a little practical advice!" "I'm not," Mrs. Adams gulped, halting. "I'm just -- just going to dust the downstairs, Alice." And with her face still averted, she went out into the little hallway, closing the door behind her. A moment later she could be heard descending the stairs, the sound of her footsteps carrying somehow an effect of resignation. Alice listened, sighed, and, breathing the words, "Oh, murder!" turned to cheerier matters. She put on a little apple-green turban with a dim gold band round it, and then, having shrouded the turban in a white veil, which she kept pushed up above her forehead, she got herself into a tan coat of soft cloth fashioned with rakish sever...
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