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Arnim, Elizabeth von, 1866-1941

"The Princess Priscilla's Fortnight"


"Really? Really?" choked Tussie, putting the other lean hot hand over
hers and burning all the coolness out of it.
The nurse looked still more disapproving. She had not heard Sir
Augustus had a _fiancee_, and even if he had this was no time for
philandering. She too had noticed the voice in which he had said Oh
mother, and she saw by his eyes that his temperature had gone up. Who
was this shabby young lady? She felt sure that no one so shabby could
be his _fiancee_, and she could only conclude that Lady Shuttleworth
must be mad.
"Nurse, I'm going to stay here a little," said Lady Shuttleworth.
"I'll call you when I want you."
"I think, madam, Sir Augustus ought not--" began the nurse.
"No, no, he shall not. Go and have forty winks, nurse."
And the nurse had to go; people generally did when Lady Shuttleworth
sent them.
"Sit down--no don't--stay a moment like this," said Tussie, his breath
coming in little jerks,--"unless you are tired? Did you walk?"
"I'm afraid you are very ill," said Priscilla, leaving her hand in his
and looking down at him with a face that all her efforts could not
induce to smile.


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