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Graham ground a little wheat yesterday between two stones and I made a loaf of it, which he says is the best brown bread he has ever tasted. We have just been taking a turn in the dusk, and on the way called at the Repettos' to find out the name of the owners of the Greta Holme, the steamer which has been here more than once. We think we may perhaps get it to call for us to take us home.
She took her arms from the wall and looked at the man. "Could I have the boat?" "The signora wishes to go on the lake?" "Yes." "I will tell Paolo." Two or three minutes later the boy who had sung came to say that the boat was ready. Lady Holme fetched a cloak, and went down the dark stone staircase between the lichen-covered walls to the tall iron gate. The boat was lying by the outer steps.
This was what Bernardine Holme hoped to do; she was broken down in every way, but it was thought that a prolonged stay in Petershof might help her back to a reasonable amount of health, or, at least, prevent her from slipping into further decline. She had come alone, because she had no relations except that old uncle, and no money to pay any friend who might have been willing to come with her.
Whiteness Lady Holme shuddered when she thought of whiteness, remembering what the glass had shown her.
Fräulein Müller always insisted on talking English with Bernardine; and as her knowledge of it was limited, a certain amount of imagination was necessary to enable her to be understood. "Ah, Miss Holme," she said, "I have deceived an exquisite report from the Doctor." "You are looking ever so well," Bernardine said. "And the love-making with the Spanish gentleman goes on well, too?"
To keep it is to tempt the wrath of the gods, but I should keep it." He poured out another whisky-and-soda and suddenly began to curse Miss Schley. Sir Donald had spoken to her after Mrs. Wolfstein's lunch. "She's imitating Lady Holme," said Carey. "I cannot see the likeness," Sir Donald said. "Miss Schley seems to me uninteresting and common." "She is."
He blew two thin lines of smoke out through his nostrils, now with a sort of sensuous, almost languid, deliberation, and watched them fade away in the brilliantly-lit room. Lady Holme resolved to adopt another manner, more in accord with her condition of tense nervousness. "When I ask you to do a thing, Fritz, you might have the decency to do it," she said sharply.
His kernel of the husk was still a siren, but a siren with a heart, with an exquisite imagination, with a fragrance of dreams about her, a lilt of eternal music in her voice, the beaming, wonder of things unearthly in her eyes. Poor Robin! Lady Holme found it in her heart to pity him as she realised herself. But then she turned her pity aside and concentrated it elsewhere.
Leo Ulford looked unusually grave, even thoughtful, as if he were pondering over some serious question. He kept his blue eyes fixed upon Lady Holme. At last he said, in a voice much lower than usual: "Poor chap!" "Who's a poor chap?" Leo jerked his head towards the door. "Your father? Why?" "Why at his age!" The last words were full of boyish contempt. "I don't understand." "Yes, you do.
The Royal lady looked slightly surprised. She coughed and glanced at a watch she wore at her side. "I shall be delighted to do anything, ma'am," Lady Holme said quickly. When she received the programme she found that her two songs came immediately after "Some Imitations" by Miss Pimpernel Schley. She stood for a moment with the programme in her hand.
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