Marjorie Bowen

“ Her whole being thrilled and tingled as it had never thrilled or tingled before—the wind, the rain, the racing clouds overhead, the moon so' high above her, the vast loneliness of sky and marsh, the sense of real fatigue and exertion, and at her feet the panting live thing she had helped to save from death ... and, as it were, crowning and completing all, the presence of the man, engaged in man's work, conveying, in his indifferent simplicity, strength, resource and fearlessness.
"I shall have to see you home now," remarked the farmer.
"Do you mean me or the sheep?" asked Camilla. ”

“ Battishill, "that you find life dull, wearisome, boring, tiresome——"
"Oh no, no," protested Camilla. "How could I?"
"How, indeed?" responded her friend with just an inflexion of hardness in her careful voice. "But it is you fortunate people who do get bored."
"I'm not bored. I'm not, I'm not," said Camilla vehemently.
"You're ashamed to say it, anyhow," smiled Mrs. Battishill. "I suppose that is a saving grace. Bored? You've had a fairy-tale life. And you've the whole world before you. Think of it, my dear, the whole world."
"It doesn't mean anything, really," said Camilla quickly. ”

“ Aloud she said:
"It seems to me there is a novelty every day, in everything—from religions to chocolates——"
"It's only the old flavours, the old dogmas turned about a bit," said Camilla quickly. "One is so tired of sampling—new religions and new chocolates!"
"I suppose," said Mrs. Battishill, "you don't know what you want?"
"Nothing, nothing. This is idle talk. I'm tired, I think. Oh, I don't know! I'm going down to Kitty Groves' to-night—and then—oh, I'm sick of London—the Riviera, I think. I like to break up seasons; the old round becomes like a treadmill." ”

“ Camilla was not angry. She merely said:
"I'm sorry, Michael."
And her engagement ended with the interview.
The next morning when the storm was over and the sun shining into ruddy autumn clearness the great banker took his leave of Kitty Groves. Before he went he had another brief interview with Camilla.
He informed her, not without the malice of a bitterly wounded man, of his private information of a financial disaster abroad that would involve nearly her whole fortune; her father would remain a comparatively wealthy man, but she would be penniless. ”

“ A few minutes later Sir Michael's swift little car ripped away along the London road.
Camilla put on her plainest cloak and went out to find the cottage of last night.
The sun was unclouded, the thinnest, clearest gold overlaid the rich tinted landscape.
The big man was in the cottage garden, tying up big heads of dahlias and Michaelmas daisies that last night's rain had blown down.
"Good morning," said Camilla, leaning over the gate. "How is the sheep?" ”

“ There came one perfect day that seemed washed in liquid gold. There was a chill in the glorious air, but it was fresh and exquisite; the azure heavens were filled with swift clouds, full of colour, shot with sunshine ”

“ They were down on the marsh's lowest level now, battling against the wind and rain, their feet sinking into the spongy ground.
Camilla's coat was torn, her skirts were draggled, her cap was becoming plastered to her head, hair and veil were twisted in wet strands behind her.
"Listen," said the farmer brusquely.
Camilla paused, breathing hard from the struggling effort of her progress.
Illustration: "'You can take me home, Michael,' she said. 'Good night, Mr. Lorimer. I hope the sheep will be all right.'"
Through the bleak, stormy twilight came a faint distressful cry. ”

“ Isn't that delicious? I've always lived with people you couldn't shock——"
"Yes?" he said indifferently.
They were nearly on the marsh now, and Camilla had a struggle to keep her feet. The wind was simply buffeting against the cliff; the volume of the rain was increasing, and the icy slash of it against her face was blinding and deafening. ”