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Keyes, Frances Parkinson, 1885-1970

"The Old Gray Homestead"

I don't want to make the air
in here heavy--for I suppose you've got to sleep here on this sofa,
having allowed yourself to be turned out of your good bed."
She laughed. "I'm so small that I can curl up and sleep on almost
anything, like a kitten," she said. "And it's fine to think of being able
to give my room to James and Sadie--they're so nice, and so happy
together. I can open the windows wide for a few minutes after you've
gone, and there won't be a trace of tobacco smoke left. If there were, I
shouldn't mind it. Now, what is it, Austin?"
"I want to talk. I haven't seen you a single minute alone. And though the
others are all interested, it isn't like telling things to a person who's
done all the wonderful things and seen all the wonderful places that I
just have. I've simply got to let loose on some one."
"Of course, you have. I thought that was it. Talk away, but not too
loud. We mustn't disturb the others, who are all trying to go to sleep by
this time. Tell me--which of the Italian cities did you like
best--Rome--or Florence--or Naples?"
"Will you think me awfully queer if I say none of them, but after Venice,
the little ones, like Assisi, Perugia, and Sienna.


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