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Updated: June 23, 2025
It was a pretty as well as a kind and clever face that smiled enquiringly up at him, from under her soft abundance of brown hair. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Nothing much. I 'm merely in love," he answered. Miss Sandus sat forward. "In love? That's delightful. Whom with? With me? Is this a declaration? Or a confidence?" She fixed him with her humorous bright old eyes. "It's both.
"She cares for me she has said it, she has shown it. But then why does she send me on this egregious wild-goose chase? She cares for me. But then why does n't she arrange to give me a minute alone with her to-night?" In the end, well, was it Adrian, or was it Miss Sandus, whom he had to thank for their minute alone? "Why does nobody say, 'Dear kind Mr.
"But oh unkind you 've forgotten the sugar." He gazed helplessly at the tea-table. Anthony brought him the sugar-bowl. "Are those cruffins?" he asked, eyeing a dish on the cake-stand. "They 're mumpers," said Miss Sandus, pushing the cake-stand towards him. "But you 're keeping us on tenter-hooks." "I 'm so sorry. It's beyond my control. I must eat a mumpet.
Was there ever such a frock? And then that faint, faint, faintest perfume, like a remembrance of violets!" I daresay something to this effect was vaguely singing itself to his thoughts. "But the experience of your life? The experience of your life?" Miss Sandus insisted. "He's clean forgotten it," Anthony assured her. "Forgotten it? Tush," Adrian flung back, with scorn.
Willes, do be nice, and sing us something'?" Adrian plaintively inquired. Anthony grasped the skirts of happy chance. "Dear kind Mr. Willes, do be nice, and sing us something," he said at once. "I 'll play your accompaniments," volunteered Miss Sandus. And she and the songster went into the drawing-room. "Thank heaven," said Anthony, under his breath, but fervently, gazing hard at Susanna.
Then, all heated and in flannels as he was, he accompanied Father Angelo to the launch. Susanna, Miss Sandus, a white peacock, and six ring-doves were taking refreshments in the garden, in the shade of an oleander-tree. There were cakes, figs, and lemonade, grains of dried maize, and plenty of good succulent hemp-seed.
And she has the nicest person who was ever born to live with her: a Miss Sandus, Miss Ruth Sandus, a daughter of the late Admiral Sir Geoffrey Sandus. She 's a dove, she 's a duck, she 's a darling; she 's completely won my heart. And I" he took a few skipping steps, and broke suddenly into song "'And I, and I have hers! We dote upon each other. She calls me her Troubadour.
I 'll explain it to you later he 'll be arriving at any moment now. He shall leave for Sampaolo to-morrow morning. You and I will leave the morning after, if you please. Only, of course, he's to know nothing about that he's to suppose that we 're remaining here." She attempted a somewhat delicate stroke off the cushion, and achieved it. "Good shot," approved Miss Sandus.
"That would depend a good deal, I should think, on the nature of what you said," his counsellor suggested, smiling. "If I said point-blank I loved her ?" Miss Sandus looked hard at the fire, her brows drawn together, pondering. Her brows were drawn together, but the vis comica played about her lips. "I think, if I were in your place, I should try it," she decided at last.
One recognises a perfect thing one recognises one's affinity. One knows when one is hit. I 'm in love with her. Give me your sympathy and counsel." "You have my sympathy. What counsel do you wish?" "What shall I do?" asked Anthony. "Drown myself? Take to drink?" "I should n't drown myself," said Miss Sandus.
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