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The Blue Lagoon: A Romance

Chapter 9 No.9

Word Count: 1334    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

hyl the distance she was putting between herself and her home, making her feel th

rk was to show her just what people may

s," "The Settlers in Canada" and "Round the World in Eighty Days," had given her pictures, and from these she had b

idea a rough joggle, the south-bou

to her imagination, but the south-bound express was prod

wns she never could have imagined or dreamed of, fil

, roaring railways, agricultural lands, manufacturing districts filled with English speaking people-that all

sh to all intents and purposes, and yet, as far as Engl

they crossed the Delaware; it passed, sweeping away east under the arch of a vast ra

ad an Irish voice and accent. He was a big man with a hard, pushful face and a great under

the dark, a warmer air that entered the train like a viewless passe

roken by river and bayou, flooded by the light of the new risen sun and touched by a vague mist from

ght filled with the laziness of June; and, for one delightful moment, it seemed to Ph

sting on them; then the mean streets of the coloured quarter and now, as the cars slackened speed, came the bustle that marks the end of a journey. People were getting their light luggage together, and as

eston,

e rug bundle in her hand looking about her, half undecided what

s her through the cr

er, and as they shook

after that long, friendless journey was so great that she laughed rig

that he had never seen

d then, giving the luggage checks to the servant and leaving h

you are not too tired; it's only a few s

t from what I thought it would be, ever so much dif

d Pinckney. "Look, th

a broad, beautiful highway, placid, sun flooded, and leading

d slumbered in the sun for a hundred years, great, solid houses whose yellow-wash seemed the incrustation left by golden and peaceful afterno

ht be its name-had been waiting for her all her life, waiting for her to turn that corner leading from the commonplace station, waiting to greet her like the ghost of some friend

g the girl who seemed to have forgotten his existence for a moment. Her head was raised as if she were inhali

ck to herself, a

" said she, "and yet I never remem

e well when I went there, though I'd never been there before. Charleston is pretty English, anyway,

hould think I did-It's mo

lau

than D

er turn

owing through a wrought iron gate. "Oh, Dublin!-don't talk to me about it he

consciously, his passion for the place where he had been born. "There's nowhere

um. It was as though the unseen garden beyond, tired of constraint and

t a wrought iron

Vernons,"

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