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Shiel, M. P. (Matthew Phipps), 1865-1947

"The Purple Cloud"

I
see it clearly, can't you? But now, if some more men would spling, they
would be taught--'
'Ah, but no more men will _spling_, you see--!'
'There is no telling. I sometimes feel as if they must, and shall. The
tlees blossom, the thunder lolls, the air makes me lun and leap, the
glound is full of lichness, and I hear the voice of the Lord God walking
all among the tlees of the folests.'
As she said this, I saw her under-lip push out and tremble, as when she
is near to crying, and her eyes moisten: but a moment after she looked
at me full, and smiled, so mobile is her face: and as she looked, it
suddenly struck me what a noble temple of a brow the creature has,
almost pointed at the uplifted summit, and widening down like a
bell-curved Gothic arch, draped in strings of frizzy hair which anon she
shakes backward with her head.
'Clodagh,' I said after some minutes--'do you know why I called you
Clodagh?'
'No? Tell me?'
'Because once, long ago before the poison-cloud, I had a lover called
Clodagh: and she was a.


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