composition about chandler and marian
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For Mr. Towers Chandler the next sixty-nine days progressed at their usual pace in the New York City architect’s office. Finally, having saved another ten dollars, after work he hurried to the boarding house and retrieved his evening suit for a grand night on Broadway.
He could not help thinking of the shop girl who had stumbled into his path the last time that he had ventured out. Miss Marian in her simple black dress and black straw hat with a velvet ribbon and bow had been a lovely sight on that cold, icy night.
It was her eyes, those green eyes which spoke pages of architectural drawings of stately happiness and kindness. Of course her dark brown hair was more breathtaking than the Duomo di Milano in Milan, based on the pictures in his office which he had seen of the great cathedral.
He pondered for a moment if it was sacrilegious to compare a woman to a cathedral. He dismissed the thought with a shrug and said to himself, “Before the cathedral, the Lord had made woman. She must have been a real beauty.”
To Mr. Chandler, Miss Marian was a beautiful creation. He had regretted after they parted that he had not told her the truth of his station in life. $18 dollars a week and saving a dollar for ten weeks so he could pretend to be a fine gentlemen of leisure for one night.
Deep within his soul he had hoped and prayed that he might encounter Miss Marian again on that corner, a busy corner of life. He had, when he had free time, revisited the area looking into the various shops for the young lady, but his quest always met the same fate—she could not be found.
He could not help thinking of the shop girl who had stumbled into his path the last time that he had ventured out. Miss Marian in her simple black dress and black straw hat with a velvet ribbon and bow had been a lovely sight on that cold, icy night.
It was her eyes, those green eyes which spoke pages of architectural drawings of stately happiness and kindness. Of course her dark brown hair was more breathtaking than the Duomo di Milano in Milan, based on the pictures in his office which he had seen of the great cathedral.
He pondered for a moment if it was sacrilegious to compare a woman to a cathedral. He dismissed the thought with a shrug and said to himself, “Before the cathedral, the Lord had made woman. She must have been a real beauty.”
To Mr. Chandler, Miss Marian was a beautiful creation. He had regretted after they parted that he had not told her the truth of his station in life. $18 dollars a week and saving a dollar for ten weeks so he could pretend to be a fine gentlemen of leisure for one night.
Deep within his soul he had hoped and prayed that he might encounter Miss Marian again on that corner, a busy corner of life. He had, when he had free time, revisited the area looking into the various shops for the young lady, but his quest always met the same fate—she could not be found.
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