eBooks Base 2000

Henrietta Frayling withdrew her hands from her muff, unfastened the
collar of her sable cape. The change from the shadowed woods to this
glaring sheltered stretch of road was oppressive. She felt strangely
tired and spent. She trusted Damaris would not perceive her uncomfortable
state and proffer sympathy. And Damaris, in fact, did nothing of the
sort, being very fully occupied with her own concerns at present.
Half a mile ahead, pastel-tinted, green-shuttered houses--a village of a
single straggling street--detached themselves in broken perspective from
the purple of pine-crowned cliff and headland beyond. Behind them the
western sky began to grow golden with the approach of sunset. The road
lead straight towards that softly golden light--to St. Augustin. It led
further, deeper into the gold, deeper, as one might fancy, into the heart
of the coming sunset, namely to the world-famous seaport of Marseilles.
Damaris sought to stifle remembrance of this alluring fact, as soon as it
occurred to her.


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