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Bagnold, Enid, 1889-1981

"The Happy Foreigner"


"You're a happy foreigner!" he finished. "Did you know? Dormans called
you that after the first dance. He said to me: 'I wonder if they are all
so happy in England! I must go and see.'"
"You too, you too!" she said, eagerly, and she wanted him to admit it.
"See how happy, how busy, how full of the affairs of life you soon will
be! Difficulties of every sort, and hard work and triumph--"
"And you'll see, you'll see, I'll do it," he said, catching fire again.
"I'll grow rich on these bony mountains--it isn't only the riches, mind
you, but they are the proof--I'll wring it out in triumph, not in water,
but in gold--from the rock!"
He stood at the edge of the path, a little above her, blotting out the
sky with his darker shape, then turning, kissed her.
"For the little time!" he said, and disappeared.
The noise of his footsteps descended in the night below. Ten minutes
passed, and as each step trod innocently away from her for ever she
continued motionless and silent to listen from her rock. The noises all
but faded, yet, loth to put an end to the soft rustle, she listened
while it grew fainter and less human to her ear, till it mingled at last
with the rustle of nature, with the whine of the wind and the pit-pat of
a little creature close at hand.
She stirred at last, and turned; and found herself alone with that
flock of enormous companions, the hog-backed mountains, like cattle
feeding about her.


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