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Schreiner, Olive, 1855-1920

"The Story of an African Farm, a novel"


She was only come to tell him that his cup of soup was ready; and, when he
could hear that she was gone, he picked up the nightcap again, and a great
brown sun-kapje--just such a kapje and such a dress as one of those he
remembered to have seen a sister of mercy wear. Gregory's mind was very
full of thought. He took down a fragment of an old looking-glass from
behind a beam, and put the kapje on. His beard looked somewhat grotesque
under it; he put up his hand to hide it--that was better. The blue eyes
looked out with the mild gentleness that became eyes looking out from under
a kapje. Next he took the brown dress, and, looking round furtively,
slipped it over his head. He had just got his arms in the sleeves, and was
trying to hook up the back, when an increase in the patter of the rain at
the window made him drag it off hastily. When he perceived there was no
one coming he tumbled the things back into the box, and, covering it
carefully, went down the ladder.
Em was still at her work, trying to adjust a new needle in the machine.
Gregory drank his soup, and then sat before her, an awful and mysterious
look in his eyes.
"I am going to town tomorrow," he said.
"I'm almost afraid you won't be able to go," said Em, who was intent on her
needle; "I don't think it is going to leave off today.


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