"
It was the greatest disappointment of Henry Marker's life that he had
not been able to give his daughter all that other fathers gave theirs.
Both he and his wife had been gently reared, and it was through no
fault of his that their property had been swept away just as he was
launching into his profession. A place at a bookkeeper's desk had been
the first thing that he had been able to obtain.
He felt Mary Lee's lack of advantages more than she did. With the
exception of a few excursions into the country, she had lived all her
seventeen years in this dingy little house on a side street. Her
mother had been her only teacher, and the men and women found in the
books of her father's library her only companions. Mary Lee was a
sociable creature; she longed for the companionship of girls of her
own age. To be a debutante, to have the seasons filled with a round of
visiting and receiving, to meet brilliant people, and to number one's
friends by the score--this to her simple little heart seemed the
height of happiness.
Now for the first time in her life she was to have a taste of it. Miss
Travis Dent had invited her to spend a month with her at Wicklett
Springs, a fashionable summer resort, in a house full of interesting
people, whose sayings and doings were already familiar to her through
the society columns of the daily papers.
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