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"But not well enough to keep you there. Stunning girls,
though, in Mexico. I thought I should never get away from Vera
Cruz when I was down there a couple of years ago."

"Did they embroider slippers and tobacco pouches and hat-bands
and things for you?" asked Edna.

"Oh! my! no! I didn't get so deep in their regard.
I fear they made more impression on me than I made on them."

"You were less fortunate than Robert, then."

"I am always less fortunate than Robert. Has he been
imparting tender confidences?"

"I've been imposing myself long enough," said Robert, rising,
and shaking hands with Edna. "Please convey my regards to Mr.
Pontellier when you write."

He shook hands with Arobin and went away.

"Fine fellow, that Lebrun," said Arobin when Robert had gone.
"I never heard you speak of him."

"I knew him last summer at Grand Isle," she replied. "Here is
that photograph of yours. Don't you want it?"

"What do I want with it? Throw it away." She threw it back on
the table.

"I'm not going to Mrs. Merriman's," she said. "If you see
her, tell her so. But perhaps I had better write. I think I shall
write now, and say that I am sorry her child is sick, and tell her
not to count on me."

"It would be a good scheme," acquiesced Arobin. "I don't blame you;
stupid lot!"

Edna opened the blotter, and having procured paper and pen,
began to write the note. Arobin lit a cigar and read the evening
paper, which he had in his pocket.

"What is the date?" she asked. He told her.
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