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This etext was prepared by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorest from the 1916
Cassell and Company edition.
MALVINA OF BRITTANY
Contents.
MALVINA OF BRITTANY. The Preface. I. The Story. II. How it
came about. III. How cousin Christopher became mixed up with it. IV.
How it was kept from Mrs. Arlington. V. How it was told to Mrs.
Marigold. VI. And how it was finished too soon. The Prologue. THE
STREET OF THE BLANK WALL. HIS EVENING OUT. THE
LESSON. SYLVIA OF THE LETTERS. THE FAWN GLOVES.
MALVINA OF BRITTANY.
THE PREFACE.
The Doctor never did believe this story, but claims for it that, to a great
extent, it has altered his whole outlook on life.
"Of course, what actually happened--what took place under my own
nose," continued the Doctor, "I do not dispute. And then there is the
case of Mrs. Marigold. That was unfortunate, I admit, and still is,
especially for Marigold. But, standing by itself, it proves nothing.
These fluffy, giggling women--as often as not it is a mere shell that
they shed with their first youth--one never knows what is underneath.
With regard to the others, the whole thing rests upon a simple scientific
basis. The idea was 'in the air,' as we say--a passing brain-wave. And
when it had worked itself out there was an end of it. As for all this
Jack-and-the-Beanstalk tomfoolery--"
There came from the darkening uplands the sound of a lost soul. It rose
and fell and died away.
"Blowing stones," explained the Doctor, stopping to refill his pipe.
"One finds them in these parts. Hollowed out during the glacial period.
Always just about twilight that one hears it. Rush of air caused by
sudden sinking of the temperature. That's how all these sort of ideas get
started."
The Doctor, having lit his pipe, resumed his stride.
"I don't say," continued the Doctor, "that it would have happened
without her coming. Undoubtedly it was she who supplied the
necessary psychic conditions. There was that about her--a sort of
atmosphere. That quaint archaic French of hers--King Arthur and the
round table and Merlin; it seemed to recreate it all. An artful minx, that
is the only explanation. But while she was looking at you, out of that
curious aloofness of hers--"
The Doctor left the sentence uncompleted.
"As for old Littlecherry," the Doctor began again quite suddenly, "that's
his speciality--folklore, occultism, all that flummery. If you knocked at
his door with the original Sleeping Beauty on your arm he'd only fuss
round her with cushions and hope that she'd had a good night. Found a
seed once--chipped it out of an old fossil, and grew it in a pot in his
study. About the most dilapidated weed you ever saw. Talked about it
as if he had re-discovered the Elixir of Life. Even
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