A NEWPORT AQUARELLE.
207
CHAPTER XI.
"Hallo, Farwell! When did you get back, and how did you like Colorado?" The speaker was Mr. Gray Grosvenor; the place, the piazza of the Redwood Reading Room at Newport; the time, just half-past nine o'clock on a September evening. A cab had driven up to the door of this paradise of fashionable loafers, and Charles Farwell was paying the driver, when addressed by Mr. Gray Grosvenor.
"I am just from the boat," he answered, and joined his interlocutor on the piazza. "I liked Colorado immensely. What's going on in Newport? I have not heard a word from the place since I left it, nor seen a newspaper."
"You hurried back for the ball, I suppose?"
