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Stoker, Bram, 1847-1912

"The Man"


The strong lines of her face were softened by the dark fire in her
eyes and the feeling which glowed in the deep blushes which mantled
her cheeks. The proudness of her bearing was no less marked than
ever, but in the willowy sway of her body there was a yielding of
mere sorry pride. In all the many moods which the gods allow to good
women there is none so dear or so alluring, consciously as well as
instinctively, to true men as this self-surrender. As Leonard drew
near, Stephen sank softly into a seat, doing so with a guilty feeling
of acting a part. When he actually came into the grove he found her
seemingly lost in a reverie as she gazed out over the wide expanse in
front of her. He was hot after his walk, and with something very
like petulance threw himself into a cane armchair, exclaiming as he
did so with the easy insolence of old familiarity:
'What a girl you are, Stephen! dragging a fellow all the way up here.
Couldn't you have fixed it down below somewhere if you wanted to see
me?'
Strangely enough, as it seemed to her, Stephen did not dislike his
tone of mastery.


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