poalwewewa

srijeda, 18.03.2009.

It was a rich, sweet voice

It was a rich, sweet voice, singing a brilliant Italian air, and singing
it with an expression that made the music doubly delicious. Stepping out
of the French window, Coventry strolled along the sunny terrace,
enjoying the song with the relish of a connoisseur. Others followed, and
still he walked and listened, forgetful of weariness or tune. As one
exquisite air ended, he involuntarily applauded. Miss Muir's face
appeared for an instant, then vanished, and no more music followed,
though Coventry lingered, hoping to hear the voice again. For music was
the one thing of which he never wearied, and neither Lucia nor Bella
possessed skill enough to charm him. For an hour he loitered on the
terrace or the lawn, basking in the sunshine, too indolent to seek
occupation or society. At length Bella came out, hat in hand, and nearly
stumbled over her brother, who lay on the grass.

18.03.2009. u 05:08 • 0 Komentara • Print • #

You lazy man, have you

You lazy man, have you been dawdling here all this time? she said,
looking down at him.

No, I've been very busy. Come and tell me how you've got on with the
little dragon.

Can't stop. She bade me take a run after my French, so that I might be
ready for my drawing, and so I must.

It's too warm to run. Sit down and amuse your deserted brother, who has
had no society but bees and lizards for an hour.

He drew her down as he spoke, and Bella obeyed; for, in spite of his
indolence, he was one to whom all submitted without dreaming of refusal.

What have you been doing? Muddling your poor little brains with all
manner of elegant rubbish?

18.03.2009. u 05:08 • 0 Komentara • Print • #

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poalwewewa

srijeda, 18.03.2009.

It was a rich, sweet voice

You lazy man, have you

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