Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 11, 2025
As for Reanda, on that first morning she hated him with all her soul, for himself, and for what he had done to her. She had words ready for him, and she turned and fitted them in her heart that they might cut him and stab him as long as he could feel.
Unwittingly she had dealt Reanda a deadly thrust. He had fallen in love with her and had married her on the understanding with himself, so to say, that she was in all respects as much a great lady as Donna Francesca herself, and he had taken it for granted that she must be above such pettiness. The lodging was extremely good and had the advantage of being very conveniently situated for his work.
Gloria alone seemed able to induce him, for her especial amusement, to break a silver dollar with his fingers, or tear a pack of cards, and then only in the presence of her father or Reanda, but never before other people. "You are the strongest man in the world, are you not?" she asked him once. "Yes," he answered. "I probably am, if it is I. I am vain of it, but not proud of it.
He hesitated a moment and then decided not to leave a card, upon which he could not have written a message intelligible to Reanda which should not have been understood also by the servant who received it. Griggs made up his mind that he would write a formal note later in the day. He took it for granted that Reanda must be searching for his wife.
I gave it to her, and she should be grateful. She also is free, as I am." "It is horrible!" exclaimed Francesca, with sorrowful emphasis. She blamed herself quite as much as Reanda or Gloria, because she had brought them together and had suggested the marriage. Reanda's thin shoulders went up, and he smiled incredulously. "I do not see what is so horrible," he answered.
Dalrymple swallowed a big tumbler of it before he ate anything. Paul Griggs filled his glass to the brim, and looked at it. He had hardly spoken since Reanda had joined the party. The artist made an effort to be agreeable, feeling that the invitation had been a very friendly one, considering the slight acquaintance he had with the Dalrymples, an acquaintance not yet twenty-four hours old.
In a way, Griggs had been right in saying that Reanda seemed to paint as an agent in the power of an unseen, directing influence. Beauty made him feel itself, and feel for it in his turn with his brush. The conception was before him, guiding his hand, before a stroke of the work was done.
Reanda had always seemed to belong to Francesca, and it was natural enough that he should inquire of her. "Where is Reanda to be found?" he asked. "He is very ill," said Francesca, in a low voice. "I am afraid you cannot see him." "Where does he live? I will at least inquire. I am sorry to hear that he is ill." "He lives here," she answered with a little hesitation.
Dalrymple had become indifferent, allowing his daughter to do what she pleased, as usual. When Gloria had seen all she wished to see, she turned with a quick movement to come down again, and on turning, she found herself much nearer to the edge than she had expected. She was bending forwards a little, and Griggs saw at once that she must lose her balance, unless Reanda caught her from behind.
Griggs had recognized him first, and they had waited for him at the corner. "It is an unexpected pleasure to meet twice in the same day," said Reanda. "The pleasure is ours," answered Dalrymple, in the correct phrase, but with his peculiar accent. "I suppose you heard my daughter's screams," he added drily. "She was explaining to us how a particular phrase should be sung."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking