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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Allan and the Holy Flower"



"I say, Allan," said Stephen, when we had retreated to a little
distance, "did you see her?"
"Her? Who? Which?" I asked.
"The young lady in the white clothes. She is lovely."
"Hold your tongue, you donkey!" I answered. "Is this a time to talk of
female looks?"
Then I went away behind the wall and literally wept for joy. It was
one of the happiest moments of my life, for how seldom things happen
as they should!
Also I wanted to put up a little prayer of my own, a prayer of
thankfulness and for strength and wit to overcome the many dangers
that yet awaited us.

CHAPTER XVII
THE HOME OF THE HOLY FLOWER
Half an hour or so passed, during which I was engaged alternately in
thinking over our position and in listening to Stephen's rhapsodies.
First he dilated on the loveliness of the Holy Flower that he had
caught a glimpse of when he climbed the wall, and secondly, on the
beauty of the eyes of the young lady in white. Only by telling him
that he might offend her did I persuade him not to attempt to break
into the sacred enclosure where the orchid grew.


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