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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Arms and the Woman"


The innkeeper was a pleasant, ruddy-cheeked old man, who had seen
service. He greeted me with some surprise; tourists, he said, seldom
made this forgotten, out-of-the-way village an objective point. I
received a room which commanded a fine view of the river and a stretch
of the broad highway. I was the only guest. This very loneliness
pleased me. My travel-stained suit I exchanged for knickerbockers and
a belted jacket. I went down to supper; it was a simple affair, and I
was made to feel at home. From the dining-room I caught a momentary
flash of white skirts in the barroom.
"Ah," I thought; "a barmaid. If she is pretty it will be a diversion."
In the course of my wanderings I had seen few barmaids worth looking at
twice.
When the table was cleared I lit a cigar and strolled into the gardens.
The evening air was delicious with the smell of flowers, still wet with
rain. The spirit of the breeze softly whispered among the branches
above me. Far up in the darkening blues a hawk circled. The west was
a thread of yellow flame; the moon rose over the hills in the east;
Diana on the heels of Apollo! And the river! It was as though Nature
had suddenly become lavish in her bounty and had sent a stream of
melting silver trailing over all the land.


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