McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928 / 2008-11-24 00:00:00
"You describe her as completely in that sentence, Lady Frances, as a
novelist could in eight pages," said Quentin.
"No novelist could describe her," was the answer.
"It's to be hoped no novelist may attempt it," said Quentin. "She is
beautiful beyond description, she will be a princess, and she knew
me when I didn't know enough to appreciate her. Her eyes were blue
in the old days, and her hair was almost black. Colors still obtain?
Then we have her description in advance. Now, let's go on with the
romance."
V
A SUNDAY ENCOUNTER
It was a sunny Sunday morning and the church parade was popular.
Lady Frances and Quentin were walking together when Prince Ugo
joined them. He looked hardly over twenty-five, his wavy black hair
giving him a picturesque look. He wore no beard, and his dark skin
was as clear as a girl's.
"By the way," said Quentin, "Lady Saxondale tells me you are to
marry a former acquaintance of mine."
"Miss Garrison is an acquaintance?" cried the prince, lifting his
dark eyes. An instant later his gaze roamed away into the horde of
passing women, as if searching for the woman whose name brought
light to his soul.
"Was an acquaintance, I think I said. I doubt if she remembers me
now. She was a child when I knew her. Is she here this morning?"
asked Phil, secretly amused by the anxious look in the Italian's
eyes.
"She will be with Lady Marnham, Ah, I see them now." The young
prince was looking eagerly ahead.
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