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Aunt Mary knows, and so does Serena; you will see that Serena contemplated the situation by the way she filled these big baskets." "I saw that they were amused with something that I didn't quite understand. And Mary Beck's mother will not feel anxious?" she asked, for a final assurance.
Serena. "And we can put stones on them to keep them down; and by putting a great many layers, I don't think it is possible the rain can get through." Mother. "And you, Gatty." "Oh," said Gatty, getting very red, and twisting her pocket handkerchief into a series of knots, "I don't know much about such things, but," seeing she must speak out, "perhaps stowing them away under a big tree would do."
Sooner or later it is sure to come out, and then it is very difficult to forgive people. Indeed, I am not sure it is right to forgive them." With difficulty George Lovegrove restrained a groan. His food was as ashes in his mouth; his tea as waters of bitterness. "Oh! I should be sorry to go as far as that, Serena," Mrs. Lovegrove remonstrated.
The stone is the grey pietra serena of Fiesole, and Donatello has plentifully, but not too plentifully, lightened it with gold, which is exactly what all artists who used this medium for sculpture should have done. By a pleasant tactful touch the designer of the modern Donatello monument in S. Lorenzo has followed the master's lead.
"Well, I won't scold any more. I'm glad we've got the three thousand anyway and the tea-pot." "It's a lovely tea-pot, all engravin' and everything. And the sugar-bowl's almost as pretty. You'll like 'em, Serena." "Yes, I'll love 'em, I don't doubt. You and I can look at them and think of that cousin of Aunt Lavinia's spending the rest of her fortune.
Madame. "I feel perfectly correct in saying, Gertrude, that you are merely giving voice to your own ideas, and not to my gentle Sybil's." Sybil. "Then, dear Madame, I must undeceive you, for, when I look at Serena, I don't think I should care whether they were roasted or not." Madame. "My child, my dear child, since when have you adopted these notions, so foreign to your mild nature?" Sybil.
Too bad." No one replied, not even Serena, who was not wont to ignore the comments of her aristocratic relative. Her next remark was in the nature of an order and was addressed to her husband. "Come! Come! Come!" she said fretfully. "Do come to bed!" Daniel, pausing only to extinguish the lights, obeyed. Mr. Hungerford, with another shrug and a covert smile, preceded him up the stairs.
To herself, therefore, Serena had become the heroine of an elaborate intrigue.
I see he wouldn't stop, so I had to go and open the door, and there stood Serena Fogg, there stood the author of "Wedlock's Peaceful Repose." I felt like a fool. For I knew she had heard every word, I see she had by her looks. She looked skairt, and as surprised and sort o' awe-stricken as if she had seen a ghost.
Not a novel suggestion, by any means; something that his fancy had often played with; very much, perhaps, as that ingenious criminal spoken of by Serena amused himself with the picture of a wrecked train long before he resolved to enjoy the sight in reality. "Live in the South," Quarrier had urged. "Precisely; in other words: Keep out of my way.
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