His life had been a lonely one in Colorado; he
could not afford to quarrel with his favorite cousin, and with him, as
with other lovers, there may have been, besides, some lurking hope that
she might yet change her mind. But perhaps Clover in a measure was right
in her conviction that Clarence was still too young and undeveloped to
have things go very deep with him. He seemed to her in many ways as boyish
and as undisciplined as Phil.
With early September the summering of the Ute Park came to a close. The
cold begins early at that elevation, and light frosts and red leaves
warned the dwellers in tents and cabins to flee.
Clover made her preparations for departure with real reluctance. She had
grown very fond of the place; but Phil was perfectly himself again, and
there seemed no reason for their staying longer.
So back to St. Helen's they went and to Mrs. Marsh, who, in reply to
Clover's letter, had written that she must make room for them somehow,
though for the life of her she couldn't say how. It proved to be in two
small back rooms. An irruption of Eastern invalids had filled the house to
overflowing, and new faces met them at every turn. Two or three of the
last summer's inmates had died during their stay,--one of them the very
sick man whose room Mrs. Watson had coveted. His death took place "as if
on purpose," she told Clover, the very week after her removal to the
Shoshone.
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