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以您所美，换您财富，十年品质，夜场信誉，有口皆碑en Rose saw a very pretty, pastoral bit of lovemaking, and long after it was over, and Phebe gone one way, Archie another, the echo of sweet words seemed to linger in the air, tender ghosts to haunt the pine grove26, and even the big coffeepot had a halo of romance about it, for its burnished27 sides reflected the soft glances the lovers interchanged as one filled the other’s cup at that last breakfast.
Rose found these reminiscences more interesting than any novel she had read, and often beguiled28 her long leisure by planning a splendid future for her Phebe as she trotted29 about after her baby in the lovely July weather.
On one of the most perfect days she sat under an old apple tree on the slope behind the house where they used to play. Before her opened the wide intervale, dotted with haymakers at their picturesque31 work. On the left flowed the swift river fringed with graceful32 elms in their bravest greenery; on the right rose the purple hills serene33 and grand; and overhead glowed the midsummer sky, which glorified34 it all.
Little Dulce, tired of play, lay fast asleep in the nest she had made in one of the haycocks close by, and Rose leaned against the gnarled old tree, dreaming daydreams35 with her work at her feet. Happy and absorbing fancies they seemed to be, for her face was beautifully tranquil36, and she took no heed37 of the train which suddenly went speeding down the valley, leaving a white cloud behind. Its rumble38 concealed39 the sound of approaching steps, and her eyes never turned from the distant hills till the abrupt40 appearance of a very sunburned but smiling young man made her jump up, exclaiming joyfully41: “Why, Mac! Where did you drop from?”
“The top of Mount Washington. How do you do?”
“Never better. Won’t you go in? You must be tired after such a fall.”