"Once, being free
from office troubles on Derby Day, I walked over Epsom Downs, and was
beseeched many times to have my fortune told. Most of the prophetesses
--they were all of your sex, Miss Fenshawe--were blessed with
exceedingly fine complexions and beautiful eyes. If these are marked
features of the gipsy tribe--"
"Don't you dare bring me out here in order to pay compliments."
"Indeed, I am but stating the bare truth to your face."
"If you persist, then, I shall be compelled to act the part of a gipsy
and tell your fortune, and I warn you that it will not be very cheerful
hearing."
Royson gazed beyond her towards a white mist which shrouded the eastern
horizon. Overhead, the delicious blue of early morning was yielding to
the noonday tint of molten copper.
"Even if we turn back to-day there are thirty marches between us and
the sea," he said with seeming irrelevance.
But those two were beginning to understand one another, and the girl
colored under the deep tan of sun and air.
"Whenever we are alone now you insist on talking nonsense," she said.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297