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Glyn, Elinor, 1864-1943

"Three Weeks"

The lady was in grey to-day,
and it suited her strangely. Her eyes gleamed at him, full of
mischief, under her large grey hat.
Paul drew his chair a little forward, turning it so that he could look
at her without restraint.
"How good of you to send for me," he said delightedly.
She smiled a radiant smile. "Was it? I am capricious, I did not think
of the good for you, only I wanted you--to please myself. I wish to be
foolish to-day, Paul, and see your eyes dance, and watch the light on
your curls."
Paul frowned; it was as if she thought him a baby.
Then the lady leant back and laughed, the sound was of golden bells.
"Yes, you are a baby!" she said, answering his thoughts. "A great,
big, beautiful baby, Paul."
If Paul had been a girl he would have pouted.
She turned from him and gazed over the lake; it was looking
indescribably beautiful, with the colours of the springtime.
"Do you see the green of those beeches by the water, Paul? Look at
their tenderness, next the dark firs--and then the blue beyond--and
see, there is a copper beech, he is king of them all! I would like to
build a chalet up in some part like that, and come there each year in
May--to read fairy-tales."
For the first time in his life Paul saw with different eyes--just the
beauty of things--and forgot to gauge their sporting possibilities.


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