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Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn, 1857-1948

"What Dreams May Come"

"
"Well, well," he said, laughing; "have your own way, as you will in
spite of me. If ever the divine fire lays me in ashes, you may triumph
in your predictions. But I must go and interview your father; I have
kept him waiting too long already."
They went out into the hall, and Dartmouth left her there and went to
the library. Sir Iltyd was sitting before a large table, reading by
the light of a student's lamp, which looked like an anachronism in
the lofty, ancient room. He closed his book as Dartmouth entered, and
rising, waved his hand toward a chair on the other side of the table.
"Will you sit down?" he said; "I should like to have a little talk
with you."
Dartmouth obeyed, and waited for the old gentleman to introduce the
subject. Sir Iltyd continued in a moment, taking up a small book and
bringing it down lengthwise on the desk at regular intervals while he
spoke:
"Of course, you must know, Harold, that it has not taken me two weeks
to discover my personal feelings toward you. I should have liked or
disliked you on the first evening we met, and, as a matter of fact, my
sensations towards you have undergone no change since that night.


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