Blogs and book

It was a gay scene, and Lesbia gave herself up to the amusement of the
hour, and talked and chaffed as she had learned to talk and chaff in one
brief season, holding her own against all comers.
Rood Hall looked lovely when they went back to it in the gloaming, an
Elizabethan pile crowned with towers. The four wings with their conical
roofs, the massive projecting windows, grey stone, ruddy brickwork,
lattices reflecting the sunlight, Italian terrace and blue river in the
foreground, cedars and yews at the back, all made a splendid picture of
an English ancestral home.
'Nice old place, isn't it?' asked Mr. Smithson, seeing Lesbia's
admiring gaze as the launch neared the terrace. They two were standing
in the bows, apart from all the rest.
'Nice! it is simply perfect.'
'Oh no, it isn't. There is one thing wanted yet.'
'What is that?'
'A wife. You are the only person who can make any house of mine perfect.
Will you?' He took her hand, which she did not withdraw from his grasp.
He bent his head and kissed the little hand in its soft Swedish glove.


Pages:
575 576 577 578 579 580 581 582 583 584 585 586 587 588 589 590 591 592 593 594 595 596 597 598 599