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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"Flames"

"
And he drew from a nook, guarded by some large ferns, a pot of red
hyacinths.
Cuckoo sat up and drank a little brandy, which the doctor gave to her.
Some colour came into her pale and thin cheeks.
"I'm as right as ninepence now," she said, with an effort after
brightness.
The bells began again.
"What's that?" she asked. "Not New Year, is it?"
"Yes," answered Valentine. "A happy New Year to you, lady of the
feathers."
Julian was struck by a sudden thought.
"Val," he said, "Cuckoo, I want you to be real friends this year."
He caught hold of Valentine's hand and placed it in Cuckoo's. But then,
again, a bewilderment seemed to take hold of him, for even as he touched
Valentine's hand he looked at him askance, and the eagerness died away
from his face.
"I don't know," he muttered to himself, and getting up from the end of
the divan, where he had been sitting, he moved away towards the fire,
leaving Cuckoo's hand in the hand of Valentine.
Valentine smiled coldly on Cuckoo.
"Lady of the feathers," he said, "we are to be allies."
"What's that?" she asked, pulling her hand away, directly Julian had
turned his back upon them.
"When people fight together against a common enemy they are allies.


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