"Won't
you come in? If you will wait here"--she led him to the
drawing-room--"I'll tell my father."
She disappeared, and Shiel heard her run lightly up the stairs.
"By Jove," he said to himself, "she's the loveliest girl I've ever
seen. From being so much among flowers, she has become one herself.
Violets, roses, and heliotrope have all had a share in her creation!
What eyes, what a mouth! what teeth! what hands! Surely I have found
here, not only the perfection of all things beautiful, but the
perfection of all things natural, the perfection of natural grace in
contradistinction from artificial grace. Moreover, she is a
romanticist. There is an expression of romance, of unworldliness, in
those deep-set eyes of hers, that sinks into my heart of hearts.
'Romance' and 'womanliness,' and the two terms appear to me to be
convertible, are her distinguishing features. She is an artist, an
idealist, and, over and above all--a woman! Hang it! I'm in love with
her!"
More he could not evolve, for his meditations were abruptly cut short
by the entrance of a servant, who ushered him, straightway, into the
presence of John Martin.
The latter, though visibly affected by the news of his friend's death,
was a man of the world, and, consequently, came to business at once.
Much had to be discussed--arrangements for the funeral, the
examination of correspondence relative to the firm, and plans for the
immediate future.
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