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The World for Sale, Volume 1. by Gilbert Parker
page 70 of 104 (67%)

This assuredly was not the girl who had run the Carillon Rapids, for that
adventuress was full of a vital force like a man's, and this girl had the
evanishing charm of a dryad.

Suddenly a change passed over her. She was as one who had listened and
had caught the note of song for which she waited; but her face clouded,
and the rapt look gave way to an immediate distress. The fantasy of the
wood-nymph underwent translation in Ingolby's mind; she was now like a
mortal, who, having been transformed, at immortal dictate was returning
to mortal state again.

To heighten the illusion, he thought he heard faint singing in the depths
of the wood. He put his hands to his ears for a moment, and took them
away again to make sure that it was really singing and not his
imagination; and when he saw Fleda's face again, there was fresh evidence
that his senses had not deceived him. After all, it was not strange that
some one should be singing in that deepest wood beyond.

Now Fleda moved forward towards where he stood, quickening her footsteps
as though remembering something she must do. He stepped out into the
path and came to meet her. She heard his footsteps, saw him, and stood
still abruptly.

She did not make a sound, but a hand went to her bosom quickly, as though
to quiet her heart or to steady herself. He had broken suddenly upon her
intent thoughts, he had startled her as she had been seldom startled, for
all her childhood training had been towards self-possession before
surprise and danger.

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