On Geoffrey's
former visit, she had teased him so continuously, and put so many petty
obstacles of all kinds in his way, that he had finally taken his cue from
her, and they had parted, in a last whirlwind of "chaff," but secretly
angry, with each other or themselves.
"He might have held out a little longer," thought Helena. "When shall I
ever get a serious word from her?" thought French.
Slowly she descended the long and winding hill leading to the village.
From the few scattered cottages and farms in sight, flags were fluttering
out. Groups of school children were scattered along the road, waving
little flags and singing. Over the wide valley below her, with its woody
hills and silver river, floated great cloud-shadows, chasing and chased
by the sun. There were wild roses in the hedges, and perfume in every
gust of wind. The summer was at its height, and the fire and sap of it
were running full-tilt in Helena's pulses.
Far down the winding road she saw at last a man on a motor
bicycle--bare-headed, and long-bodied.
Up he came, and soon was near enough to wave to her, while Helena was
still scolding her own emotions.
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