It seems too
wonderful, almost unreal. Are you the old Eileen who used to
shudder when I told you of a bit of jungle and wild beasts, and
who laughed at me because I loved to sleep out-of-doors and tramp
mountains, instead of decently behaving myself at home? I demand
an explanation. It must be a wonderful change--"
"There has been a change," she interrupted him. "Sit down, Philip
--there!" She nestled herself on a stool, close to his feet, and
looked up at him, her hands clasped under her chin, radiantly
lovely. "You told me once that girls like me simply fluttered over
the top of life like butterflies; that we couldn't understand
life, or live it, until somewhere--at some time--we came into
touch with nature. Do you remember? I was consumed with rage then
--at your frankness, at what I considered your impertinence. I
couldn't get what you said out of my mind. And I'm trying it."
"And you like it?" He put the question almost eagerly.
"Yes." She was looking at him steadily, her beautiful gray eyes
meeting his own in a silence that stirred him deeply. He had never
seen her more beautiful. Was it the firelight on her face, the
crimson leapings of the flames, that gave her skin a richer hue?
Was it the mingling of fire and shadow that darkened her cheeks?
An impulse made him utter the words which passed through his mind.
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