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Updated: June 3, 2025
Twenty miles of winding sea running inland like a league-wide river, mountains on both sides, many of them wooded to the furthest height. Rostrevor is a bijou watering place such as only France here and there can boast.
It seemed a compliment to his own good taste and discrimination. He liked to think that other men envied him his position as Myra's accepted lover. It pleased him to be pointed out as the lucky man who had won the heart and hand of the beautiful Miss Rostrevor, and he was not unconscious of the fact that he was being pointed out as he strolled along the Row after watching Myra out of sight.
Next afternoon she strolled into her aunt's drawing room, and her heart gave a queer little convulsive jump when she found Lady Fermanagh engaged in animated conversation with Don Carlos. "Myra, dear, I'm so glad you have come in," exclaimed her aunt. "Allow me to introduce Don Carlos de Ruiz. Don Carlos, my niece, Miss Myra Rostrevor." Don Carlos was en his feet, and he bowed low smilingly.
Myra Rostrevor gave her mount his head for a time and went the length of the Row, then reined him in, turned, and trotted him back at a pace that would scarce have shaken up the most liverish of the Indian Colonels.
Chips. He strolled. O, welcome back, miss Douce. He held her hand. Enjoyed her holidays? Tiptop. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Gorgeous, she said. Look at the holy show I am. Lying out on the strand all day. Bronze whiteness. That was exceedingly naughty of you, Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand indulgently. Tempting poor simple males. Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.
Standish, a man betrothed to a girl as beautiful as Miss Rostrevor would feel almost insulted if his friends did not openly envy him and protest themselves hopelessly in love with the young lady he had won," resumed Don Carlos. "The lady herself would feel slighted if the friends of her betrothed did not continue to attempt to make love to her.
He recognised her instantly, and made his way masterfully through the crowd that surrounded her at the first interval. "I shall have the pleasure of the next dance with you, Miss Rostrevor?" he said, and it struck Myra that his words were more by way of being an assertion than a question or a request. "Indeed, señor, and you won't," she retorted in her soft Irish voice.
He has been in to see Tony, I hear, told him it was all his fault and asked him to accept his apologies. Of course, his idea is to try to prevent Tony from thanking him. But I guess you will thank him, Miss Rostrevor!" "Perhaps it would please him better if I reproached him," responded Myra, whereat her companion laughed.
"So perhaps I'd better not make a first attempt, even in the hope of getting a pat on the neck afterwards," laughed Tony. There was pride and admiration in his pale blue eyes as he looked up at the girl who had promised to marry him. He was the owner of many priceless art treasures, none of which, however, was half as beautiful in his eyes as Myra Rostrevor.
Many girls with an eye on the main chance had set their caps at him, angled for him, and made no secret of their willingness to become Mrs. Antony Standish, and Tony was not unaware of the fact. Perhaps it was because Myra Rostrevor had always seemed to be totally indifferent to him that he had lost his heart to her, and made up his mind to win her and make her his wife at all costs.
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