United States or Caribbean Netherlands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Instantly she sprang to her feet beside him, and lifted his head, her face full of the horror that goes before the wave of pain for those one loves. But he had not even fainted. He opened his eyes, and smiled, and tried to speak again, but could not. Veronica's lips moved, too, as she stood there, supporting him a little with her arm and stiffened with terror for his life.
He glanced at Ann Veronica's face, and it seemed to him that she really was exceptionally radiant. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. He filled her glass with champagne. "You MUST," he said, "because of my depression." They were eating quails when they returned to the topic of love.
You are not safe here. Do you know why my dear friend Bosio killed himself last night?" "It was an accident! It must have been an accident!" Veronica's face was very sorrowful again. "I wish it had been," said Don Teodoro. "They will say so, in charity, in order to give him Christian burial. But it was not an accident, princess. My friend told me all the truth, the day before yesterday.
The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica's mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. She controlled herself, and answered meekly, "No."
You could not think of Vera as the children's Auntie, or as Bartie's wife, or as Veronica's mother. Veronica was a very little girl who sang songs and was afraid of ghosts. When Vera beautiful in a beautiful gown, came trailing into the room where everybody waited for her, Veronica hid herself behind Uncle Anthony's big chair. A little girl with a straight white face.
"Bless us!" she said to the priest. "This is our marriage! Say the words quickly!" Taquisara's face was livid, for he had as much of instant death in him as the dying man, though he could not die. But he did not fail. He came and knelt on the other side of the couch, away from Veronica. The priest stood at the foot, in pale hesitation. Veronica's eyes commanded. "Speak quickly!" she said.
In the days that followed, Gianluca wrote to Veronica again and again, about all manner of subjects which had come up in their conversation; and Veronica's short notes of thanks grew longer, until she found that she, too, was beginning to write real letters, and looked forward to writing them, as well as to receiving his. And his came oftener, until she had one almost every day.
NOW it's just as though you had grown up suddenly." She stopped, and then suggested: "I wonder I should love if it was anything I said." She did not wait for Ann Veronica's reply. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. "They all catch on," she said. "It spreads like wildfire. This is such a grand time! Such a glorious time! There never was such a time as this!
That simple statement of the case was by no means all that went on in Ann Veronica's mind. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding.
There was a ring of finality in Veronica's tone. Agent Sanders scribbled something more in his little notebook. Then he renewed his questioning. "You took that letter to somebody, didn't you?" "I did not," replied Veronica emphatically. "I told you before, and I repeat it, I know nothing about any letter. I never saw it, and I never heard of it until you accused me of taking it."
Word Of The Day