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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"

Duncan and the babies. Won't that be fun?"
Freckles thought that it would be more than fun, and followed
delightedly.
The Angel gave him a big glass, brimming with some icy, sparkling liquid
that struck his palate as it never had been touched before, because a
combination of frosty fruit juices had not been a frequent beverage with
him. The night was warm, and the Angel most beautiful and kind. A triple
delirium of spirit, mind, and body seized upon him and developed a
boldness all unnatural. He slightly parted the heavy curtains that
separated the conservatory from the company and looked between. He
almost stopped breathing. He had read of things like that, but he never
had seen them.
The open space seemed to stretch through half a dozen rooms, all ablaze
with lights, perfumed with flowers, and filled with elegantly dressed
people. There were glimpses of polished floors, sparkling glass, and
fine furnishings. From somewhere, the voice of his beloved Bird Woman
arose and fell.
The Angel crowded beside him and was watching also.


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