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eyes on each other before to-day.â |
âThatâs true. But thatâs why theyâre able now to go ahead.â |
âGo ahead!â Mr. Wilkins could only echo the outrageous words. |
âIâm sorry, Mellersh,â said Mrs. Wilkins again, âif you donât like it, |
butââ |
Her grey eyes shone, and her face rippled with the light and conviction |
that had so much surprised Rose the first time they met. |
âItâs useless minding,â she said. âI shouldnât struggle if I were you. |
Becauseââ |
She stopped, and looked first at one alarmed solemn face and then at |
the other, and laughter as well as light flickered and danced over her. |
âI see them being the Briggses,â finished Mrs. Wilkins. |
That last week the syringa came out at San Salvatore, and all the |
acacias flowered. No one had noticed how many acacias there were till |
one day the garden was full of a new scent, and there were the delicate |
trees, the lovely successors to the wistaria, hung all over among their |
trembling leaves with blossom. To lie under an acacia tree that last |
week and look up through the branches at its frail leaves and white |
flowers quivering against the blue of the sky, while the least movement |
of the air shook down their scent, was a great happiness. Indeed, the |
whole garden dressed itself gradually towards the end in white, and |
grew more and more scented. There were the lilies, as vigorous as ever, |
and the white stocks and white pinks and white banksia roses, and the |
syringa and the jessamine, and at last the crowning fragrance of the |
acacias. When, on the first of May, everybody went away, even after |
they had got to the bottom of the hill and passed through the iron |
gates out into the village they still could smell the acacias. |
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