Crazy Radio eBooks

The heat, the stillness, the
white cage of the mosquito net, the silence had become intolerable to
her. She pulled aside the net. Yes, that was better. She felt more
free. She would lie down outside the net. But the pillow was hot. She
turned it, but its pressure against her cheek almost maddened her, and
she got up, went across the room to the wash-stand and bathed her face
with cold water. Then she put some /eau de Cologne/ on her forehead,
opened a drawer and drew out a fan, went over to an arm-chair near the
window and sat down in it.
What had Emile written in the visitors' book at the Scoglio di Frisio?
With a strange abruptness, with a flight that was instinctive as that
of a homing pigeon, Hermione's mind went to that book as to a book of
revelation. Just before he wrote he had been feeling acutely--
something. She had been aware of that at the time. He had not wanted
to write. And then suddenly, almost violently, he had written and had
closed the book.
She longed to open that book now, at once, to read what he had
written.


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