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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

'
'I would not say that,' he returned, with another change of colour.
'I may hear it once too often.'
With which he moved off straight for where Flora was sitting amidst
her court of vapid youths, and I had no choice but to follow him, a
bad second, and reading myself, as I went, a sharp lesson on the
command of temper.
It is a strange thing how young men in their teens go down at the
mere wind of the coming of men of twenty-five and upwards! The
vapid ones fled without thought of resistance before the Major and
me; a few dallied awhile in the neighbourhood--so to speak, with
their fingers in their mouths--but presently these also followed
the rout, and we remained face to face before Flora. There was a
draught in that corner by the door; she had thrown her pelisse over
her bare arms and neck, and the dark fur of the trimming set them
off. She shone by contrast; the light played on her smooth skin to
admiration, and the colour changed in her excited face. For the
least fraction of a second she looked from one to the other of her
pair of rival swains, and seemed to hesitate. Then she addressed
Chevenix:-
'You are coming to the Assembly, of course, Major Chevenix?' said
she.
'I fear not; I fear I shall be otherwise engaged,' he replied.
'Even the pleasure of dancing with you, Miss Flora, must give way
to duty.


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