قراءة كتاب An Accidental Honeymoon

تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"

‏اللغة: English
An Accidental Honeymoon

An Accidental Honeymoon

تقييمك:
0
No votes yet
المؤلف:
دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 2

href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@46195@[email protected]#i05" class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">“I’m Afraid You’ll Find the Cabin-Door Catch is Broken,” said Madge Yarnell in an Undertone

Good-Morning, Patience-on-a-Monument

Betty, Allow Me to Drink Your Health in Jersey Molly Wine

All the Chivalry in Fessenden’s Nature Stirred at Her Words


MR. FRANCIS CHARLES MCDONALD, OF PRINCETON
UNIVERSITY, IS THE AUTHOR OF THE POEM, “BOB
WHITE,” MADE USE OF IN THIS STORY. I BEG TO
EXPRESS MY GRATITUDE FOR HIS PERMISSION TO
AVAIL MYSELF OF IT.

AN ACCIDENTAL HONEYMOON

I

Fessenden put the girl gently down on the flat rock at the edge of the stream.

“There you are, little woman,” he said. “You really ought to be careful how you go splashing about. If you hadn’t screamed in time——”

“Did I scream?”

“Rather! Lucky you did.”

“I didn’t scream because I was afraid. I stumbled and—and I thought I saw an eel in that pool, ready to bite me. Eels do bite.”

“Undoubtedly—horribly!”

He stepped back with a little flourish of the hat in his hand. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I took you for a child. That dress, you know, and——”

“And my being in paddling.”

“I’m afraid I’ve been rather presumptuous.”

The color in her cheeks deepened a little. “Not at all. It’s my own fault. This afternoon—just for an hour or two—I’ve been dreaming—pretending I wasn’t grown up. It’s so sad to be grown up.”

His eyes sparkled with instant sympathy. “After all, are you so very old?”

She was seventeen or thereabouts, he guessed—a girl lately arrived at womanhood. Her hair was arranged in a bewildering fashion, requiring a ribbon here and there to keep its blonde glory within bounds. Beneath the dark brows and darker lashes blue eyes showed in sudden flashes—like the glint of bayonets from an ambush. The delicately rounded cheeks, just now a little blushing, and the red-lipped mouth, made her look absurdly young.

She had sunk to a seat upon the rock. One foot was doubled under her, and the other, a white vision veiled by the water, dangled uncertainly, as if inclined to seek the retirement possessed by its fellow. His gaze lingered on the curve of throat and shoulder.

“If Phidias were only alive——” he said.

“Phidias?”

“BUT YOU’VE BEEN

Pages