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: Nancy first and last by Blanchard Amy Ella Stecher William F William Frederick Illustrator - Love stories; Voyages and travels Juvenile fiction; Young women Juvenile fiction; Families Juvenile fiction; Identity Juvenile fiction
SHE DREW THE RING FROM HER FINGER AND WITH AVERTED FACE HELD IT OUT
"SPAIN," MURMURED THE GIRL
IT WAS LIKE A DREAM, A POEM
"AND IF THERE SHOULD BE WAR," SAID LILLIAN, SUDDENLY
HE HELD OUT HIS HAND WITH GROPING GESTURE
NANCY FIRST AND LAST
A PARTING OF THE WAYS
The garden was too peaceful and fair for a scene of discord. From behind the sun-warmed box hedges came the odor of clove pinks, hundred-leaf roses and heliotrope, while breezes, passing by the porch of the old-fashioned, high-pillared house, brought the cloying sweetness of honeysuckle and jessamine blooms. Along the gravelled paths paced a man and a girl, both young and good to look upon. The girl, slender, brown-eyed, fair-haired, white-skinned, discoursed passionately; the man, with steady blue eyes, broad brow and firm chin, listened, turning toward her once in a while a half-bewildered look.
"You do not understand, you cannot," the girl was saying excitedly. "You are nothing but ice and snow, a creature of marble. If you had ever met love face to face, had ever felt its real power I would not need to question you, but it has to filter through your body and never reaches your soul. There is so little spiritual essence in what you offer that it is valueless to me."
"But, Nancy, what is it you want me to do?" asked the man, still looking bewildered.
The girl made a despairing gesture. "You ask me to tell you what to do!" she cried. "If your own heart cannot tell you, it is no use, no use to go on. Have you ever stood at night in the shadows gazing at my window till my light went out?"
He shook his head. "I don't think so," he answered slowly.
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