SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 236 | Next

Cullum, Ridgwell, [pseud.], 1867-1943

"The Forfeit"

With
Nan self held a particularly subservient place to every other emotion.
And when it did manage to obtrude itself it was her way to fight her
battle alone, at a time when no prying eyes were there to witness her
sufferings. To the daylight she presented a pair of sweet brown
smiling eyes, and lips as full, and ripe, and firm as though no shadow
of doubt and unhappiness had ever crossed her path.
She went on rapidly, speaking as though the matter under consideration
were fully accepted between them.
"It's queer how things fix themselves the way you don't guess," she
said reflectively. "Just one week, and they're changed around in a way
that makes you wonder if you aren't dreaming. It's sort of like the
Indian summer, isn't it? There's the beautiful light of the full sun
on colors that set you 'most crazy with delight. Pictures that make
you feel Providence is just the biggest painter ever set brush to
canvas. Then, with a shiver of wind from the north, down the leaves
tumble, and right on top of 'em comes the snow, and then you're moving
around in a sort of crystal fairy web, and wonder when you'll wake up.


Pages:
224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248