His Other Wife: A Novel — page 368: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

360: LEDA’S HOST. a low, broken ‘‘Thank you. How good you are to me!” A few days went by after this before Leda made any further allusion to what had taken place. | One evening, after their early and simple tea, the good Dame Warren left her son to finish his cigar on the porch alone with their sad, fair guest, who sat apart under the drooping cluster of a lamarque rose that covered one end of the little piazza, Her face shone white as an angel’s, and almost as beau- tiful, against the dense blackness of her garments. One of the pure pale roses gleamed among the rich dark masses of her braided hair, and the luster of her splendid eyes glowed through the dim starlight. Warren lounged on the steps a little way from her feet, his cigar-end blink- ing like a glow-worm in the dark, and its warm fumes mingling sweetly with the fragrance of the dewy roses. He was not in the least conscious of how well his hand- some figure was displayed in the careless reclining pose he had assumed for comfort, not becomingness. ; His head rested against the wooden column. of the porch, his face was upturned to the solemn stars that lit it palely, and the dark, glossy hair fell away in silky curls from his clear, calm brow. ‘Where are your thoughts all this while? I do not think you have even breathed for half an hour,” said Leda, who had not taken her eyes from the prone form of the young athlete for some time. | He puffed out a mouthful of smoke before he answered. (E(@) 3 EComicbooks: