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It's pretty beastly, you know, to feel that half the world stretches between you and someone you might at any moment develop a pressing desire to see." Olga frowned at him. "What are you driving at, Nick?" "I'm only indicating the obvious," said Nick. "No, you're not, dear. You're hinting things." "In that case," said Nick, "you are at liberty to treat me with the contempt I deserve. Look here!
Georgie was a Bartlett on his mother's side, and he played the piano better than Lucia, and he had twenty-four hours' leisure every day, which he could devote to being king of Riseholme.... His nature flared up, burning with a red revolutionary flame, that was fed by his secret knowledge about Olga Bracely. Why should Lucia rule everyone with her rod of iron? Why, and again why?
The foreground is somehow chewed up, and there is something, you know, not the thing.... And your cottage is weighed down and whines pitifully. That corner ought to have been taken more in shadow, but on the whole it is not bad; I like it." And the more incomprehensible he talked, the more readily Olga Ivanovna understood him.
The sun still shone gloriously, and the yacht slipped on through the shining water, throwing up the sparkling foam as she went. But to Olga the whole world had become a place of darkness and of the shadow of death. Whichever way she turned, she was afraid. "Oh, why have you told me?" she said at last. "Why why have you told me?" "Can't you guess?" said Hunt-Goring. "No!"
Poor child! She had suffered and he, fool that he was, had sat in his studio, the victim of his false pride, wrapped in his own ego while this vile plot was brewing. He might have done something if he had had his wits about him, instead of hiding his head like an ostrich and imagining himself unseen. Olga he did not dare to think of Olga Tcherny or of De Folligny. He had given his word to Mrs.
If Olga's motives still remained shrouded in mystery, it was clear that her object had been to bring their companionship to an end, and this she had done, though not precisely in the way she had planned. Hermia hadn't believed that rot about La Croix and Compigne. Olga had overshot the mark. Her pleasantry with the loaded shotgun had been better aimed and her frightened game had fallen.
The Countess snuffed out her cigarette daintily upon the ash tray. "Can one love in vain? Perhaps. /* "'Aimer pour tre aim, c'est de l'homme, Aimer pour aimer, c'est Presque de l'ange." */ "I'm afraid I'm not that kind of an angel." Hilda Ashhurst laughed. "Olga is." "Olga!" exclaimed Hermia with a glance of inquiry. "Haven't you heard?
Georgie was the last to leave and did not notice till he was half-way home that he had a ham-frill adorning his shirt front. He hoped that it had been Olga who put it there, when he had to walk blind-fold across the floor and try to keep in a straight line. Riseholme got up rather late next morning, and had to hurry over its breakfast in order to be in time for church.
It was a circumstance well worth recording, for I am sure it is the first full bodied ablution he has indulged in since leaving Mount Olga, eighteen weeks to a day, and I am not at all sure that he bathed there. It was therefore with great pleasure that I recorded the unusual circumstance.
Such admiration was certainly due Olga, a tall, handsome girl, a little passive and slow, yet with that touch of dignity which a continued mood of introspection so often lends to the young. Olga had been in Chicago for a year living with an aunt who, when she returned to Sweden, placed her niece in a boarding-house which she knew to be thoroughly respectable.
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