Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: July 23, 2025
Yet I can't quite remember where. Could it have been at Valrosa?" "Oh, no," said Toby. "It couldn't possibly have been there." "And yet I can't help thinking it must have been," said Sheila, looking at her with knitted brows. "Were you at that fancy-dress affair at the Casino Hotel? I have a feeling I have seen you somewhere in fancy dress." "Never!" said Toby with decision.
Long before the publication of the second report, Saltash was seated in the captain's cabin on board the Corfe Castle, with a strong brandy and soda before him, giving a brief and vigorous account of himself and his company. Yes, he was Charles Burchester, Viscount Saltash, owner of the private yacht, The Night Moth. He was returning from Valrosa alone with his captain and his crew.
Saltash glanced at him. "Why?" "She isn't the woman for you." Larpent spoke with the absolute conviction of one who knows. "She has too many ideals. Now this sprat you caught at Valrosa has none." "Not so sure of that," said Saltash. "Well, no illusions anyway." There was a hint of compassion in Larpent's voice. "It wasn't because she trusted you that she put herself under your protection.
My Dear Mentor, Please make my adieux to your aunt, and exult within yourself, for 'Lazy Laurence' has gone to his grandpa, like the best of boys. A pleasant winter to you, and may the gods grant you a blissful honeymoon at Valrosa! I think Fred would be benefited by a rouser. Tell him so, with my congratulations. Yours gratefully, Telemachus "Good boy!
Saltash clapped him on the shoulder and turned away. "Well, I'm ready for the open sea now," he said. "We'll leave our dreams behind." He was always on easy terms with his sailors who worshipped him to a man. He whistled a careless air as he went below. The magic of Valrosa had loosed its hold, and he was thinking of the wide ocean and buffeting waves that awaited him.
There was to be a water-side fête that night at Valrosa, and the promenade and bandstand were wreathed with flowers and fairy-lights. It was getting late in the season, and it would probably be the last. Saltash surveyed the preparations with very perfunctory interest as he sauntered up to the hotel next to the Casino where he proposed to dine.
She never had much to show when she came home, but was studying nature, I dare say, while she sat for hours, with her hands folded, on the terrace at Valrosa, or absently sketched any fancy that occurred to her, a stalwart knight carved on a tomb, a young man asleep in the grass, with his hat over his eyes, or a curly haired girl in gorgeous array, promenading down a ballroom on the arm of a tall gentleman, both faces being left a blur according to the last fashion in art, which was safe but not altogether satisfactory.
The girls of Valrosa spoke of the ugly Englishman with bated breath and shining eyes long after Saltash had gone his unheeding way, for the blood was hot in his veins before the game was over. If the magic had been slow to work, its spell was all the more compelling when it gripped him. Characteristically, he tossed aside all considerations beyond the gratification of the moment's desire.
Sheila leaned forward. She was a pretty girl of two-and-twenty with a quantity of soft dark hair and grey eyes that held a friendly smile. "We don't go to the sea much in the summer as a rule. We get so much of it in the winter. Dad always winters in the South. It only seems a few weeks since we came back from Valrosa."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking