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Du Bois, W. E. B. (William Edward Burghardt), 1868-1963

"The Quest of the Silver Fleece A Novel"

"
"To see you brighter, dear," she said.
"Your little hands are much too frail for work."
"They must grow larger, then, and soon."
"Your feet are far too small to travel on."
"They'll travel on to you--that's far enough."
"Your lips--your full and purple lips--were made alone for kissing, not
for words."
"They'll do for both."
He laughed in utter joy and touched her hair with light caressing hands.
"It does not fly with sunlight," she said quickly, with an upward
glance.
"No," he answered. "It sits and listens to the night."
But even as she nestled to him happily there came the harsh thunder of
horses' hoofs, beating on their ears. He drew her quickly to him in
fear, and the coach lurched and turned, and left them facing four pairs
of eyes. Miss Taylor reddened; Mrs. Grey looked surprised; Mrs.
Vanderpool smiled; but Mr. Cresswell darkened with anger. The couple
unclasped shamefacedly, and the young man, lifting his hat, started to
stammer an apology; but Cresswell interrupted him:
"Keep your--your philandering to the woods, or I shall have you
arrested," he said slowly, his face colorless, his lips twitching with
anger. "Drive on, John."
Miss Taylor felt that her worst suspicions had been confirmed; but Mrs.
Vanderpool was curious as to the cause of Cresswell's anger. It was so
genuine that it needed explanation.


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