The Goddess Girl
"She did n't say much, but she sighed over me and said, 'Barbarous Georgie,' or something insulting of that sort. And I can tell you, old chap, it makes a fellow feel pretty small beer when his girl sighs over him as if he were a kind of black sheep, and an awful example to the parish."
"I should think it did," said I slowly. "What's the matter now?"
For Georgie's eyes, fixed on the terrace outside the window, had radiantly lit up. All the shadows had vanished quite suddenly.
"There," said he softly. "That's the kind of thing to make a fellow tired of being engaged to Anne." Up the terrace steps, with a flaming sunset behind her, straight and tall, white-gowned and chestnut-haired, a smile of divine self-satisfaction on her lovely mouth, a light of victory in her sapphire eyes, came a Goddess Girl, mallet in hand. Georgie gasped. Under the library window she stopped—some flaunting rose in
43
