Manchurian Books

"Ah," said Miss Holland softly, "it _is_ an adventure, Aunt Dora."
St. George liked that. It irritated him, he had once admitted, to
see a woman live as if living were a matter of life and death. He
wished her to be alive to everything, but without suspiciously
scrutinizing details, like a census-taker. To appreciate did not
seem to him properly to mean to assess. Miss Holland, he would have
said, seemed to live by the beats of her heart and not by the waves
of her hair--but another proof, perhaps, of "if thou likest her
opinions thou wilt praise her virtues."
It was but a moment before the curtain was lifted, and there
approached a youth, apparently in the twenties, slender and
delicately formed as a woman, his dark face surmounted by a great
deal of snow-white hair. He was wearing garments of grey, cut in
unusual and graceful lines, and his throat was closely wound in
folds of soft white, fastened by a rectangular green jewel of
notable size and brilliance. His eyes, large and of exceeding beauty
and gentleness, were fixed upon St.


Pages:
61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85