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Updated: June 1, 2025
"I am full of love for every one," thought Mrs. Wentworth Williams, " for the poor most of all for the peasants coming back in the evening with their burdens. And everything is soft and vague and very sad. It is sad, it is sad. But everything has meaning," thought Sandra Wentworth Williams, raising her head a little and looking very beautiful, tragic, and exalted. "One must love everything."
If she draws back, she publicly accepts the blot upon her name. I speak against my own feelings and my wishes. 'Sandra, do you hear? exclaimed Laura. 'This is a friend's interpretation of your inconsiderate wilfulness. Vittoria was content to reply, 'The Signor Carlo judges of me differently.
'You show the thumps of an electric battery at each elbow, and expect your Goddess of lightnings not to see that she moves you. Go. You have not sided with me, and I am right, and I am a woman. By the way, Sandra mia, I would beg the loan of your Beppo for two hours or less. Vittoria placed Beppo at her disposal. 'And you run home to bed, continued Laura.
Meanwhile, the great clock on the landing ticked and Sandra would hear time accumulating, and ask herself, "What for? What for?" "What for? What for?" Sandra would say, putting the book back, and strolling to the looking-glass and pressing her hair.
His repetition of her name the 'Sandra' being uttered with unwonted softness plunged her into a fit of weeping. "Ah!" Mr. Pericles shouted. "See what she has come to!" and he walked two or three paces off to turn upon her spitefully, "she will be vapeurs, nerfs, I know not! when it wants a physique of a saint! Sandra Belloni," he added, gravely, "lift up ze head! Sing, 'Sempre al tuo santo nome."
You will sing to please my sister, Sandra mia, will you not?" Vittoria shook her head.
The third week passed. Crossing the orbit of Mars, now approximately in opposition to Jupiter, the Sandra streaked on into the last leg of her long voyage. The sun was a vast, flame-belching disk on her starboard side, and ahead lay Earth, growing each hour. Cheerfulness pervaded the ship, nerves were relaxing, faces lightening.
Briefly telling her to wait, he pursued them. Emilia was standing in the gateway, not at all comprehending why she was alone. "Sandra Belloni!" struck her ear. Looking forward she perceived a hand and a head gesticulating from a cab-window. She sprang out into the street, and instantly the hand clenched and the head glared savagely. It was Mr. Pericles himself, in travelling costume.
He was extraordinarily moved, and with the battered Greek nose in his head, with Sandra in his head, with all sorts of things in his head, off he started to walk right up to the top of Mount Hymettus, alone, in the heat.
It was not more than fifty miles from the Sandra, a craggy fragment of rock, peanut-shaped, and tipped by its gleaming dome. Its speed seemed the same as theirs, but its course was different; and to Carse, that fact immediately explained its sudden appearance. He turned from the eyepiece with a face grown hard and cold. "Well, it's happened," he said.
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