But, by good luck, Doris found her godmother, perching in London between
a Devonshire visit and a Scotch one. They talked long, and Doris walked
slowly home across the park. A glory of spreading sun lay over the
grassy glades; the Serpentine held reflections of a sky barred with
rose; London, transfigured, seemed a city of pearl and fire. And in
Doris's heart there was a glory like that of the evening,--and, like the
burning sky, bearing with it a promise of fair days to come. The glory
and the promise stole through all her thoughts, softening and
transmuting everything.
"When _he_ grows up--if he were to marry such a woman--and I didn't
know--if all _his_ life--and mine--were spoilt--and nobody said a word!"
Her eyes filled with tears. She seemed to be walking with Arthur through
a world of beauty, hand in hand.
How many hours to Pitlochry? She ran into the Kensington house, asking
for railway guides, and peremptorily telling Jane to get down the small
suitcase from the box-room at once.
PART III
CHAPTER V
"'Barbarians, Philistines, Populace!'"
The young golden-haired man of letters who was lounging on the grass
beside Arthur Meadows repeated the words to himself in an absent voice,
turning over the pages meanwhile of a book lying before him, as though
in search of a passage he had noticed and lost.
Pages:
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