Books author - "Harold Bindloss"
It Was Evening Of Early Summer. George Lansing Sat By A Window Of The Library At Brantholme. The House Belonged To His Cousin; And George, Having Lately Reached It After Traveling In Haste From Norway, Awaited The Coming Of Mrs. Sylvia Marston In An Eagerly Expectant Mood. It Was Characteristic Of Him That His Expression Conveyed Little Hint Of His Feelings, For George Was A Quiet, Self-Contained Man; But He Had Not Been So Troubled By Confused Emotions Since Sylvia Married Marston Three Years
It Was Evening Of Early Summer. George Lansing Sat By A Window Of The Library At Brantholme. The House Belonged To His Cousin; And George, Having Lately Reached It After Traveling In Haste From Norway, Awaited The Coming Of Mrs. Sylvia Marston In An Eagerly Expectant Mood. It Was Characteristic Of Him That His Expression Conveyed Little Hint Of His Feelings, For George Was A Quiet, Self-Contained Man; But He Had Not Been So Troubled By Confused Emotions Since Sylvia Married Marston Three Years