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Updated: May 25, 2025
Robin, seeming to gaze out at the sodden heath, did not really see it because she was thinking of Dowie who sat silently by her side. Dowie had taken her from the church to the station and they had made the long journey together. They had talked very little in the train though Dowie had been tenderly careful and kind.
For she had not "wakened up" though somehow Dowie had gone on from day to day wistfully believing that it would be only "Nature" that she should. Dowie had always believed strongly in "Nature."
"Are they very soft, Dowie?" she asked and the asking was actually a wistful thing. "When you hold them do they feel very light and soft and warm? When you kiss them isn't it something like kissing a little flower?" "That's what it is," said Dowie firmly as one who knows.
Dowie was not only the religious and temporal leader of the movement, but also the contractor for and principal beneficiary from this gigantic co-operative scheme, which combined selling and purchasing, manufacture and distribution, therapeutics, social questions and religion.
"Yes, my dear," Dowie answered. "Tell me what Lord Coombe told you." Dowie put down her sewing because she was afraid her hands would tremble when she tried to find the proper phrase in which to tell as briefly as she could the extraordinary story.
Crown 8vo. 6s. Of Mr. Benson's second novel the 'Birmingham Post' says it is 'well written, stimulating, unconventional, and, in a word, characteristic'; the 'National Observer congratulates Mr. Benson upon 'an exceptional achievement, and calls the book 'a notable advance on his previous work. M.M. DOWIE. GALLIA. By MÉNIE MURIEL DOWIE, Author of 'A Girl in the Carpathians. Second Edition.
The bridegroom might pass, in his manly prime and his scarlet coat, although a dowf gallant; but who would have thought that Nelly Carnegie in the white brocade which was her grandmother's the day that made her sib to Rothes Nelly Carnegie who flouted at love and lovers, and sported a free, light, brave heart, would have made so dowie a bride?
She's gey young she is, to be a widow woman left like that." The doctor came up the moor road every day and talked more to Dowie than to his patient. As the weeks went by he could not sanely be hopeful. Dowie's brave face seemed to have lost some of its colour at times. She asked eager questions but his answers did not teach her any new thing. Yet he was of a modern school.
She was achingly wondering what Dowie was thinking what she knew and what she thought of the girl she had taken such care of and who was being sent away to be hidden in a ruined castle whose existence was a forgotten thing.
In the evening she sat long before the fire and Dowie, sewing near her, looked askance now and then at her white face with the lost eyes. It was Dowie's own thought that they were "lost." She had never before seen anything like them. She could not help glancing sideways at them as they gazed into the red glow of the coal. What was her mind dwelling on? Was she thinking of words to say?
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