United States or Finland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I poured out volumes of psychological explanations. I dissected Mrs. Oke's character twenty times over, and tried to show him that there was absolutely nothing at the bottom of his suspicions beyond an imaginative pose and a garden-play on the brain. I adduced twenty instances, mostly invented for the nonce, of ladies of my acquaintance who had suffered from similar fads.
I followed him on to the lawn, or rather the piece of park-land that ran up to the house. We walked quickly, he in front, without exchanging a word. Suddenly he stopped, just where there jutted out the bow-window of the yellow drawing-room, and I felt Oke's hand tight upon my arm. "I have brought you here to see something," he whispered hoarsely; and he led me to the window. I looked in.
And, with that far-off look in her light eyes, she relapsed into silence. "Have you ever read any of Lovelock's poetry?" she asked me suddenly the next day. "Lovelock?" I answered, for I had forgotten the name. "Lovelock, who" But I stopped, remembering the prejudices of my host, who was seated next to me at table. "Lovelock who was killed by Mr. Oke's and my ancestors."
Word Of The Day