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The Patrician
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“No, but Lady Casterley wants you to walk with her.”
“Oh! bother! I was having such a dream!”
“Yes; you were smiling.”
“I was dreaming that I could fly.”
“Fancy!”
“I could see everything spread out below me, as close as I see you; I was hovering like a buzzard hawk. I felt that I could come down exactly where I wanted. It was fascinating. I had perfect power, Stacey.”
And throwing her neck back, she closed her eyes again. The sunlight streamed in on her between the half-drawn curtains.
The queerest impulse to put out a hand and stroke that full white throat shot through the maid’s mind.
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