The Wings of Icarus - Being the Life of one Emilia Fletcher by Laurence Alma-Tadema
page 39 of 139 (28%)
page 39 of 139 (28%)
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"This is nice of you!" he cried; then his father stumped downstairs
again, followed by a tall, sweet-faced woman. "There, Jane," said he, "there she is." I went up to her; she was, indeed, very shy. "Dear, dear," was all she said; "deary me, think of this, it's very kind of you, I'm sure," squeezing my hand the while as if it had been a sponge. She led me off through the door to the right, into a comparatively presentable parlour; but her brother took my other hand and pulled me in the opposite direction. "No, no," he said; "no, no, we'll go into the kitchen and have tea." "Yes, come," said Gabriel; "I'm hungry, aren't you? Let's go and find something to eat." So we recrossed the hall and passed through a good-sized room which looked like a second-hand bookshop. Books overflowed the shelves, and lay in piles in every available corner,--the floor, the table, the old upright piano, the very chairs, were covered with dusty volumes. Out of this room led the kitchen, which at least looked clean. A rosy little maid was leaving after the day's work as we entered. "Sit down," said Gabriel's father to me; "sit down, my dear; you shall have some tea in a minute." And he began taking plates down from the dresser. Miss Norton, meanwhile, had disappeared, and presently returned with a loaf, dragging Gabriel after her. |
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