Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 23, 2025
When the ultimate fabric is woven, and the tissue released from the loom, there will surely be no meaningless thread, sable or silver, in the consummated pattern. A few weeks after Magda's departure Gillian received a letter from Dan Storran, reminding her of her promise to let him see her and asking if she would lunch with him somewhere in town.
"Is it Miss Vallincourt?" Magda nodded and proceeded to introduce Gillian. But Storran's glance only rested cursorily on Gillian's soft, pretty face, returning at once to Magda's as though drawn thither by a magnet. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet your train myself to-day," he said, a note of eager apology in his voice. Magda smiled at him. "So am I," she answered.
With it all, he was as immaculately groomed, his small golden beard as perfectly trimmed, as ever. "Antoine!" His name faltered from Magda's lips. The man's face, its beauty all marred by some terrible turmoil of the soul, shocked her. He vouchsafed no greeting, but came swiftly to her side. "Is it true?" he demanded imperiously. She shrank back from him.
As with Hugh Vallincourt, whose blood ran in her veins, the idea of personal renunciation made a curious appeal to her emotional temperament, and she was momentarily filled with something of the martyr's ecstasy. Gillian's arms clung round Magda's neck convulsively as she kissed her at the great gates of Friars' Holm a few hours later. "Good-bye! . . . Ah, Magda! Come back to me!"
Gillian foresaw that betwixt administering comfort to Lady Arabella and Virginie, and setting Magda's personal affairs in order after her departure, she would have little time for the indulgence of her own individual sorrow. Perhaps it was just as well that these tasks should devolve on her. They would serve to occupy her thoughts.
Even when the theory of suicide was finally disproved by his mother's receiving a letter from Australia, whither it appeared, the boy had betaken himself and his disappointment, people seemed at first disinclined to overlook Magda's share in the matter.
Gillian, guessing from Magda's manner that the whole matter was practically arranged, nodded acquiescence. "I'm sure I should. But will you?" whimsically. She glanced at the sophisticated simplicity of Magda's white gown, at the narrow suede shoes and filmy stockings every detail of her dress and person breathing the expensiveness and luxury and highly specialised civilisation of the city.
She had set out from Friars' Holm so full of hope in her errand! It had seemed impossible that she could fail, and she had been almost unconsciously looking forward to seeing Magda's wan, strained face relax into half-incredulous delight as she confided in her the news that Michael was as eager and longing for a reconciliation as she herself. And instead this!
Very sad indeed," rejoined the lawyer feelingly. "These heart complaints are very obscure sometimes, I believe?" "Sometimes," said Lancaster. "Not always." The next happening that impressed itself on Magda's cognisance as an event was the coming of Lady Arabella Winter.
And then the car slid away and Magda's last glimpse was of the open gates of Friars' Holm with its old-world garden, stately and formal, in the background; and of Virginie weeping unrestrainedly, her snowy apron flung up over her head; and of Gillian standing erect, her brown eyes very wide and winking away the tears that welled up despite herself, and her hand on Coppertop's small manful shoulder, gripping it hard.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking