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Glyn, Elinor, 1864-1943

"Red Hair"

"I--what, oh!
what is the matter?"
No wonder he was surprised. Why he had not taken me for some tramp, too,
and passed on, I don't know.
"Nothing," I said, as well as I could, and tried to tilt my hat over my
eyes. I had no veil on, unfortunately.
"I have just been for a walk. Why do you call me Evangeline and why are
you not in Northumberland?"
He looked so tall and beautiful, and his face had no expression of
contempt or anger now, only distress and sympathy.
"I was suddenly put on guard yesterday, and could not get leave. I am
going to-morrow," he said, not answering the first part, "but, oh, I can't
bear to see you sitting here alone and looking so, so miserable. Mayn't I
take you home? You will catch cold in the damp."
"Oh no, not yet. I won't go back yet," I said, hardly realizing what I was
saying. He sat down beside me and slipped his hand into my muff, pressing
my clasped fingers, the gentlest, friendliest caress a child might have
made in sympathy. It touched some foolish chord in my nature, some want of
self-control inherited from mamma's ordinary mother, I suppose; anyway the
tears poured down my face. I could not help it. Oh, the shame of it! To
sit crying in the park, in front of Lord Robert, of all people in the
world, too!
"Dear, dear little girl," he said, "tell me about it," and he held my hand
in my muff with his strong, warm hand.


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