Arthur Stringer

“ The wind stirred and died in the treetops. A sense of peace after unrest stole over the young professor of anthropology.
He sighed, audibly. Anne looked up quickly at the sound. Then she, too, gazed out over the gardens and the treetops, and, as her companion had done, found herself surrendering to the spirit of peace that brooded over the tranquil landscape.
“Don't you sometimes think,” said Anne at last, “that-we're always working and fretting too much, down at Amboro?”
“There's always so much to do, so much to be done,” sighed the man of science. ”

“ Anne queried softly. “After all, shouldn't the appeal of beauty be as strong as the appeal of work? It has always seemed to me that it is only when work is touched with beauty, in some way or another, that it is worth while.” ”

“ As they sat there talking together, he could catch occasional glimpses of Sybil and young Sewell, through the shrubbery, busily engaged in marking out a tennis court. For once, for some undiscovered reason, he could look down at them calmly and disinterestedly. ”