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"Oh, I've been leading too gay a life," she said hastily. "The Durwards seem to know half London, so that we crowded about a dozen engagements into each day and a few more into the night." "Durward?" The word sprang violently from Trent's lips, almost as though jerked out of him, and Sara, glancing towards him in some astonishment, surprised a strange, suddenly vigilant expression in his face.

I was joined on the stairs by the Story Girl, who said she had wakened and, not feeling like going to sleep again, thought she might as well get up. "I had such a funny dream last night," she said. "I dreamed that I heard a voice calling me from away down in Uncle Stephen's Walk 'Sara, Sara, Sara, it kept calling. I didn't know whose it was, and yet it seemed like a voice I knew.

Her perfectly modelled neck and shoulders gleamed like pink marble in the reflected glow of the burning logs. She wore no jewellery, but there was a single white rose in her dark hair, where it had been placed by the whimsical Hetty an hour earlier as they left the dinner table. "He is coming out on the eleven-thirty, Sara," said the girl nervously, "unless you will send the motor in for him.

Will write. No, the real woman for him was Lady Sara de Treverell." Ullweather thrust his tongue into his cheek. "Lady Sara has been called to higher destinies," said he, "than the heavenly 'sweet hand in hand!" "I see you know," said Bradwyn, with a mysterious glance. "Yes," said Ullweather.

Carroll, what she had to say about me," said Sara, a slight tremour of emotion in her voice. He read from the lengthy telegram: "'She wants me to thank Mrs. Wrandall for all she has done to make her last few months happy ones, such as they were. She appreciates her kindness all the more because she realises that her benefactress must have known everything.

And upstairs in the locked room Sara and Emily sat on the floor and stared at the corner round which the cab had disappeared, while Captain Crewe looked backward, waving and kissing his hand as if he could not bear to stop. A French Lesson When Sara entered the schoolroom the next morning everybody looked at her with wide, interested eyes.

"I'd ask you over, too, dear, if there weren't so many others coming. I don't know where we're going to put them. You understand, don't you?" "Perfectly," said her sister-in-law, smiling. "But I've been counting on Hetty." "I say, Sara," broke in Leslie, "you COULD go up to Bar Harbour with the Williamsons at that time. Tell her about the invitation, Vivie."

He regarded her steadily for a moment, then quietly averted his eyes. And Sara realized that in those few words he had revoked repudiating all that he had claimed, all that he had given, the day before. "Letters are unsatisfactory things at the best of times, and what we all want is to have you with us again for a little while.

She, at least, knew too well that Sara Derwent, when she married, could not have loved hers. Wonderings as to what was Sara's present fate, occupied her mind for a long, long time. She had full opportunity for thought, as her mother, oppressed by the sultry August evening, had fallen asleep with her hand on her daughter's neck, and Olive could not stir for fear of waking her.

For, just as Avrillia had hinted, the toast, in spite of its appearance, was really Angel Food cake; and as she ate it, Sara found at her elbow a bottle marked "Birdsong Wine Bluebird." As the Gunki were all eating, they couldn't wait on her, so she poured it into her glass herself; and when she had taken a sip, it tasted just like April!

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