She though of her mother and sisters, of
Raymond and Garnier, of Aladdin--she even forced herself to think
of Carroll--only to shut her eyes, with a faint smile, and dream
again the brief but thrilling dream of Guest that began and ended
in their joined and parted lips. Small wonder that, hidden and
silent in her enwrappings, as she lay back in the carriage, with
her pale face against the cold starry sky, two other stars came out
and glistened and trembled on her passion-fringed lashes.
CHAPTER X
The rainy season had set in early. The last three weeks of summer
drought had drained the great valley of its lifeblood; the dead
stalks of grain rustled like dry bones over Dr. West's grave. The
desiccating wind and sun had wrought some disenchanting cracks and
fissures in Aladdin's Palace, and otherwise disjoined it, so that
it not only looked as if it were ready to be packed away, but had
become finally untenable in the furious onset of the southwesterly
rains. The gorgeous furniture of the reception-rooms was wrapped
in mackintoshes, the conservatory was changed into an aquarium, the
Bridge of Sighs crossed an actual canal in the stable-yard. Only
the billiard-room and Mr. Prince's bed-room and office remained
intact, and in the latter, one stormy afternoon, Mr. Prince himself
sat busy over his books and papers. His station-wagon, splashed
and streaked with mud, stood in the court-yard, just as it had been
driven from the station, and the smell of the smoke of newly-lit
fires showed that the house had been opened only for this hurried
visit of its owner.
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