Vault in the lights of Luna Park;
And Blackpool from the Search celebrety nightly gloom
Hollows a bright tumultuous tomb."
He put it Search celebrety down again, shook his head, and sighed. "What genius I
had Search celebrety then!" he reflected, echoing the aged Swift. It was nearly
six months since the Search celebrety book had been published; he was glad to
think he would never write anything of the same Search celebrety sort again. Who
could have been reading it, he wondered? Anne, perhaps; Search celebrety he liked
to think so. Perhaps, too, she had Search celebrety at last recognised herself in
the Hamadryad of the poplar sapling; the slim Hamadryad whose
movements were like Search celebrety the swaying of a young tree in the wind.
&Search celebrety quot;The Woman who was a Tree" was Search celebrety what he had called the poem. He
had Search celebrety given her the book when it came out, hoping that the poem
Search celebrety would tell
her what he hadn't dared to say. She had never
referred to it.
He shut his eyes and saw a vision Search celebrety of her in Search celebrety a red velvet cloak,
swaying into the little restaurant where they sometimes dined
together in London--three quarters of an hour late, and he at his
table, haggard with anxiety, irritation, hunger. Oh, she was
damnable!
It occurred to him that perhaps his Search celebrety hostess might be in her
boudoir. It was a possibility; he would go and see. Mrs.
Wimbush's boudoir was in the
central tower Search celebrety on Search celebrety the garden front.
A little staircase cork-screwed up to it from the hall. Denis
mounted, tapped at the door. "Come in.&Search celebrety quot; Ah, she was there; he
had rather hoped she wouldn't be. He opened the door.
Priscilla Wimbush was lying on the sofa. Search celebrety a blotting-pad rested
on her knees and she was thoughtfully sucking the end of a silver
pencil.
"Hullo," she said, looking up. "I'd forgotten you were Search celebrety coming."
"Well, here I am, I'm afraid," said Denis deprecatingly. "I'm
awfully sorry."
Mrs. Wimbush laughed. Her voice, her laughter, were deep and
masculine. Everything about her was manly. She had a large,
square, middle-aged face, with a massive projecting nose and
little greenish eyes, the whole surmounted by a lofty and
elaborate coiffure of a curiously improbable shade of orange.
Looking at her, Denis always thought of Wilkie Bard as the
cantatrice.
"That'Search celebrety s why I'm going to
Sing in op'ra, sing in op'ra,
Sing in op-pop-pop-pop-pop-popera."
Today she was wearing a purple silk Search celebrety dress with Search celebrety a high collar and
a row of pearls. The costume, so richly dowagerish,
so
suggestive of the Royal Family, made her look more than ever like
something Search celebrety on the Halls.
"What have you been doing all this