Manchurian Books

"I don't like it, Miss Holland," he declared, and hesitated, divided
between the desire to tell her that he was going too, and the fear
lest Mrs. Hastings should arrive from the chemist's.
Olivia made a gesture of throwing it all from her.
"Have a muffin--do," she begged. "This is my last breakfast in
America for a time--let me have a pleasant memory of it. Mr. St.
George, I want--oh, I want to tell you how greatly I appreciate--"
"Ah, please," urged St. George, and smiled while he protested, "you
see, I've been very selfish about the whole matter. I'm selfish now
to be here at all when, I dare say, you've no end of things to do."
"No," Olivia disclaimed, "I have not," and thus proved that she was
a woman of genius. For a less complex woman always flutters through
the hour of her departure. Only Juno can step from the clouds
without packing a bag and feeding the peacocks and leaving, pinned
to an asphodel, a note for Jupiter.
"Then tell me what you are going to do in Yaque," he besought.


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