You seem to be coquetting with old Boreas. For me, I can't play with
the foe; I simply have to meet him and fight him till my strength is
exhausted--then rest till I can get breath--then up and at it again.
Do you remember those old lines:
"'A little I'me hurt but not yett slaine,
I'le but lye down and bleed awhile,
And then I'le rise and fight againe!'"
"Oh, heaven help me," thought poor Rose, "what _can_ I say now? There
is nothing in the world to say." She fell to crying bitterly, as she
safely could under cover of the snow and the darkness; but after a
minute she controlled herself, and was, to outward appearance,
tranquil and buoyant as before.
They had reached the house. He stepped inside the warmly-lighted hall
just for a moment, as Rose, with a gesture of dismay, threw off her
wraps, and disclosed an inappropriately elaborate little gown,
partially soaked by the storm. "I suppose I need not have put on
anything so fine as this to go out in on a wet day, but I am fond of
dressing, not for others, but for myself. I prefer feeling effects to
producing them. Do you think me very selfish?"
"Oh, yes; everything that is hard, unfeeling, and unlike your sweet
little self.
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