Amanda M. Douglas

"[...]What if he arose from the ruin, and put this child in it, with her marvellous eyes, her ignorant, innocent trust, her apron full of wild roses, emerging from the shadowy hollow, and one branch caught in her hair, half crowning her. For why should a man wreck his life on the shallows and quicksands of a woman's love? Two days ago he had said he could not paint again in years, if ever, that all his genius had been the soft glamour of a woman's smile. And here was a fresh inspiration. Dil stared, yet the happy light did not go out of her face as she tried to grasp the mystery. "Yes; would you mind my sketching you for a picture?" There were not many people around. Saturday afternoons they went off on excursions. A few drowsy old fellows of the better class, two women resting and reading, waiting for some one perhaps, others sauntering.[...]".

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