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Douglas, Norman, 1868-1952

"South Wind"

It gives
one a genuine zest in life. Enthralling!"
And thereupon the bibliographer fell silent, all at once. He had
succumbed, yet again, to his besetting sin: talking too
enthusiastically to outsiders of what was nearest his heart. Why on
earth should a globe-trotting bishop be bothered about the mineralogy
of Nepenthe? It was absurd: tactless of him.
He tried to atone for the blunder by some mundane trivialities.
"What are you doing afterwards?"
"Going up to see Mrs. Meadows."
"Are you? Do remember me very kindly! Or perhaps--no. Better not. Fact
is, she cut me dead two days ago. At least, it looked uncommonly like
it. I confess I was rather upset, because I'm not conscious of having
done anything to annoy her. Indeed, I've always felt a kind of weakness
for Mrs. Meadows; there is something so fine and womanly about her.
Will you try to find out what it's all about? Thanks. Perhaps she may
not have noticed me. She was walking very fast. And I must say she was
not looking herself at all.


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