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Updated: June 1, 2025
I ought to have gone to another hotel, but the chain of memory was too strong for me. I was hesitating between the luxury of a sentimental spell and a fit of loneliness, when a happy interruption came in a message from Countess Otani, naming the next day at two for luncheon with her at the Arsenal Gardens at Tokio. How I wished for you, Mate! It was a fairy-story come true, dragons and all.
Drapers and grocers, ironmongers, general stores, butchers and bakers, all kept open until midnight, and every place was lighted up as clear as day. It was like a fairy-story place, Jim said; he was as pleased as a child with the glitter and show and strangeness of it all. Nobody was poor, everybody was well dressed, and had money to spend, from the children upwards.
Nobody else talked delicious fairy-story twaddle but Mr. Aladdin. "The ring isn't for ME!" she explained carefully. "You know very well that Emma Jane nor I can't be married till we're through Quackenbos's Grammar, Greenleaf's Arithmetic, and big enough to wear long trails and run a sewing machine. The ring is for a friend." "Why doesn't the groom give it to his bride himself?"
I was afraid he might interest you too much. You'll deny it, but you'll never outgrow the fairy-story age." "Saigon." "Good heavens, Elsa, what is the matter?" "No, no! Don't touch me. I'm not the fainting kind. Did you know last night that he was going?" "Yes." "I shall never forgive you." "Why, Elsa . . ." "Never, never! You knew and did not tell me. Do you know who Paul Ellison is?
A friend, writing to me from Italy, speaks thus of Botticelli, and of the painters associated with him: "When I ask myself what it is I find fascinating in him for instance, which of his pictures, or what element in them I am forced to admit that it is the touch of paganism in him, the fairy-story element, the echo of a beautiful lapsed mythology which he has found the means of transmitting."
For Paul it would have been talk of the bicycle he was to have for his birthday; for Elly a fairy-story or a piece of candy! For Mark . . . High above the tumult of Mark's shrieks and her own spasmodic reactions to them, she sent her intelligence circling quietly . . . and in an instant . . . oh yes, that was the thing.
She darted to the mantelpiece and replaced the photograph. She felt like some heroine of a fairy-story meddling with the contents of the giant's castle. Soon there would come the sound of a great footstep, thud thud . . . Thud. Jill's heart gave another leap. She was perfectly sure she had heard a sound. It had been just like the banging of a door.
And while the Gorgeous Girl flew home at the first war cloud to bury herself in serious war activities Steve climbed the upward path and never once glanced backward lest he grow dizzy. At thirty-two, in the year 1919, he was able to say to Mark Constantine, in the fashion of a fairy-story hero: "I still love your daughter, sir, and I've made my fortune. We want to be married.
I might have got on in my place not happily but I might have got on, if you had not come visiting. I don't blame you, sir. It's my fault all my fault. "Do you remember when you came out on us from among the sand hills, that morning, looking for Mr. Betteredge? You were like a prince in a fairy-story. You were like a lover in a dream. You were the most adorable human creature I had ever seen.
He told me it was the language of the sea and that all ships could understand it whether they be English, Dutch, or French. Our greatest happening during those first weeks was passing an iceberg. When the sun shone on it it burst into a hundred colors, sparkling like a jeweled palace in a fairy-story. Through the telescope we saw a mother polar bear with a cub sitting on it, watching us.
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