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Alma-Tadema, Laurence, 1865?-1940

"The Wings of Icarus Being the Life of one Emilia Fletcher"

Of
course, when she got better and he sat with us daily to help me to
amuse her, they were thrown more together. It was a great joy to me
to see how well they got on.
Then she began to tease him. They never talked very much, for all
that. When I come to think of it, it was early last month that
Constance began to say, "How is your friend this morning?" or "I
haven't seen Gabriel for two days; I miss him; he makes me laugh."
But I did not notice it then.
What? Is this all I have to say? It is too ridiculous! Of course she
likes him; one cannot come near him without some love. Besides, she
would like him for my sake. It is all so natural. He, too, did not
often speak of her, does not often speak of her. It is natural,
knowing how I love her, that he should feel at ease with my
Constance. Nor could I have wished it to be otherwise.
Now let me think when I was first taken with this mad fit. It was
last Thursday week; we were all three in the wood; it was one of my
bad days, when I love him unto pain; it hurt me that he lagged
behind, I wanted him near. And I twice saw Constance turn to look
after him; I turned, too,--they smiled at each other.


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