20/26 She slips from her chair to the hearthrug--a beautiful white soft Persian one--and sits upon it, as it were, one snowflake on another. "How nice it is!" says she, staring at the sparks roaring up the chimney; "such a companion!" She leans back and rests her head against Rylton's knees. "Now, go on," she says comfortably. We were saying something about friends. That _we_ should be friends all our lives. |