"
The Ambassador's tone was as gravely importunate as though he were
begging the cession of a city from a harsh conqueror. Armitage rose and
walked the length of the veranda. He had not seen Shirley since that
morning when the earth had slipped from under his feet at the bungalow.
The Claibornes had been back and forth often between Washington and Storm
Springs. The Judge had just been appointed a member of the Brazilian
boundary commission which was to meet shortly in Berlin, and Mrs.
Claiborne and Shirley were to go with him. In the Claiborne garden,
beyond and below, he saw a flash of white here and there among the dark
green hedges. He paused, leaned against a pillar, and waited until
Shirley crossed one of the walks and passed slowly on, intent upon the
rose trees; and he saw--or thought he saw--the sun searching out the gold
in her brown hair. She was hatless. Her white gown emphasized the
straight line of her figure. She paused to ponder some new arrangement of
a line of hydrangeas, and he caught a glimpse of her against a pillar of
crimson ramblers. Then he went back to the Baron.
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