She folded the sheet of paper again and gave it
back to the young girl.
"I am glad he wrote that letter," she said after a moment's pause.
"I always believed in him, and now--well, I think, he is almost
worthy of you, Faustina."
Faustina threw her arms around Corona's neck, and kissed her again
and again.
"I am so glad you know how good he is!" she cried. "I could not be
happy unless you liked him, and you do."
All through the morning the two friends sat together in the great
drawing-room talking, as such women can talk to each other, with
infinite grace about matters not worth recording, or if they spoke
of things of greater importance, repeating the substance of what
they had said before, finding at each repetition some new comment
to make, some new point upon which to agree, after the manner of
people who are very fond of each other. The hours slipped by, and
they were unconscious of the lapse of time. The great clocks of
the neighbouring church towers tolled eleven, twelve, and one
o'clock, and yet they had more to say, and did not even notice the
loud ringing of the hundred bells. The day was clear, and the
bright sunlight streamed in through the high windows, telling the
hour with a more fateful precision than the clocks outside.
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