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Webster, Henry Kitchell, 1875-1932

"The Real Adventure"


"Come across here," said Galbraith taking her by the arm and stemming
this current with her. "We've got to have a minute of shelter to finish
this up in," and he led her into the north lobby of the public library.
The stale baked air of the place almost made them gasp. But, anyway, it
was quiet and altogether deserted. They could hear themselves think in
here, he said, and led the way to a marble bench alongside the
staircase.
Rose unpinned her veil and, to his surprise, because of course she was
going out in a minute, put it into her ulster pocket. But, curiously
enough, the sight of her face only intensified an impression that had
been strong on him during the last part of their walk--the impression
that she was a long way off. It wasn't the familiar contemplative brown
study, either. There was an active eager excitement about it that made
it more beautiful than ever he had seen it before. But it was as if she
were looking at something he couldn't see--listening to words he
couldn't hear.


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