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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"Flames"

"
This last remark seemed to produce a considerable effect upon the girl.
"Did he, though?" she asked, one finger going up to her under lip,
reflectively. "Really, truly?"
"Really, truly."
"What should he want with me? He's--he's not one of the usual sort."
"Valentine usual! I should think not."
"And he wants me to go?"
Certainly she was impressed and flattered.
"Yes, very much."
Julian found himself again wondering, with Cuckoo, mightily at
Valentine's vagary of desire. She touched his hand with her long,
thin fingers.
"You'll stay with me all the time?"
"Why, of course."
"You won't leave me? Not alone with him, I mean."
"No; don't be so absurd."
A new hesitation sprang into her face.
"But what am I to go in?" she said. "He--he don't like my red."
So her awe and dislike prompted her to a desire of pleasing Valentine
after all, and had led her shrewdly to read his verdict on her poorly
smart gown. Julian, pleased at his apparent victory, now ventured on a
careful process of education, on the insertion of the thin edge of the
wedge, as he mutely named it.
"Cuckoo," he said, "let me give you a present,--a dress. Now," as she
began to shake her tangled head, "don't be silly.


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