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Updated: June 24, 2025
Of course there's nobody left nobody ever fills in in the country. . . . Do you know, I'll be driven into letting Drina sit up with us! for sheer lack of material. I suppose the little imp will have a fit if I suggest it, and probably perish of indigestion to-morrow." Eileen laughed. "Oh, Nina, do let Drina come this once! It can't hurt her she'll look so quaint.
From a dimple-kneed, despotic, strenuous youngster, ruling the nursery with a small hand of iron, in half a year Drina had grown into a rather slim, long-legged, coolly active child; and though her hair had not been put up, her skirts had been lowered, and shoes and stockings substituted for half-hose and sandals. Weighted with this new dignity she had put away dolls, officially.
"H-how do you know?" "Because she said a man's name." The silence lengthened; he sat, tilted a little forward, blank gaze focussed on the snowy window; Drina, standing, leaned back into the hollow of his arm, absently studying her ring. A few moments later her music-teacher arrived, and Drina was obliged to leave him.
It's no use, Nina; I'm not going to marry any girl for ever so long anyway, not until Drina releases me on her eighteenth birthday. Hello! somebody's coming and I'm off!" "I'm not at home; don't go!" said Nina, laying one hand on his arm to detain him as a card was brought up. "Oh, it's only Rosamund Fane! I did promise to go to the Craigs' with her. . . . Do you mind if she comes up?"
Boots sat on the bedside, the feverish little head in his arms, and Nina was a trifle surprised to see how seriously he took it. "Boots," she said, "you look as though your last hour had come. Are you letting that very bad child frighten you? Drina, dear, mother doesn't mean to be horrid, but you're too old to whine. . . . It's time for the medicine, too " "Oh, mother! the nasty kind?"
Ah, that clever maid of mine knows some secrets never mind! but Drina thinks I'm a beauty. . . . Come, dear; and thank you for being kind to Eileen. One's own kin counts so much in this world. And when a girl has none, except a useless brother, little things like that mean a lot to her." She turned, her hand falling on his sleeve. "You are among your own people, anyhow!" His own people!
A long letter to him from Nina still remained unanswered; Austin had seen him only once in town; Lansing, now back in New York, wrote a postscript in a letter to Drina, asking for Selwyn's new address the first intimation anybody had that he had given up his lodgings on Lexington Avenue.
A few hours' travelling through the narrow valley of the Bogatschitza brought us to the bank of the Drina, where, leaving the up-heaved monuments of a chaotic world, we bade adieu to the Tremendous, and again saluted the Beautiful. The Drina. Liubovia. Quarantine Station. Derlatcha. A Servian beauty. A lunatic priest. Sorry quarters. Murder by brigands.
"Confidences" had become an established custom with Drina and Boots; it meant that every time they saw one another they were pledged to tell each other everything that had occurred in their lives since their last meeting.
Selwyn, sitting up rumpled and cross-legged on the floor, after having boloed Drina to everybody's exquisite satisfaction, looked around at the sudden rustle of skirts to catch a glimpse of a vanishing figure a glimmer of ruddy hair and the white curve of a youthful face, half-buried in a muff. Mortified, he got to his feet, glanced out into the hallway, and began adjusting his attire.
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