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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"My Lady Caprice"

Would he go away? I
wondered. Evidently not, for after glancing about him he sat himself
down upon a rustic seat near-by with a certain resolute air that I
did not like. I must get rid of him at all hazards.
"Sir," said I, "can I trespass on your generosity to the extent of
a match or say a couple?" After a brief hesitation he drew out a
very neat silver match-box, which he handed to me.
"A fine day, sir?" I said, puffing at my pipe.
Mr. Selwyn made no reply.
"I hear that the crops are looking particularly healthy this year,"
I went on.
Mr. Selwyn appeared to be utterly lost in the contemplation of an
adjacent tree.
"To my mind an old apple tree is singularly picturesque," I began
again, nice nobbly branches, don't you know."
Mr. Selwyn began to fidget.
"And then," I pursued, "they tell me that apples are so good for
the blood."
Mr. Selwyn shifted his gaze to the toe of his riding boot, and for a
space there was silence, so much so, indeed, that an inquisitive
rabbit crept up and sat down to watch us with much interest, until
- evidently remembering some pressing engagement - he disappeared
with a flash of his white tail.


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