Read "Plum Bun" by Jessie Redmon Fauset online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
The week was one of tumult, almost of agony. After all, matters were not completely settled, you never could tell. She would be glad when the twenty-seventh had come and gone, for then, then she would be rooted, fixed. She and Roger would marry immediately. But now he was so far away, in Georgia; she missed him and evidently he missed her for the first two days brought her long telegrams almost letters. "I can think of nothing but next Thursday, are you thinking of it too? " The third day brought a letter which said practically the same thing, adding, "Oh, Angèle; I wonder what you will say!"
"But he could ask me and find out," she said to herself and suddenly felt assured and triumphant. Every day thereafter brought her a letter reiterating this strain. "And I know how he hates to write!"