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Wells, H. G. (Herbert George), 1866-1946

"Secret Places of the Heart"


He strolled to the family automobile, produced an EN-TOUT-CAS
pocket-handkerchief and set himself to polish the lamps with great
assiduity. The two gentlemen lingered at the turnstile for a moment or
so to watch his proceedings. "Modern child," said Sir Richmond. "Old
stones are just old stones to him. But motor cars are gods."
"You can hardly expect him to understand--at his age," said the
custodian, jealous for the honor of Stonehenge....
"Reminds me of Martin's little girl," said Sir Richmond, as he and Dr.
Martineau went on towards the circle. "When she encountered her first
dragon-fly she was greatly delighted. 'Oh, dee' lill' a'eplane,' she
said."
As they approached the grey old stones they became aware of a certain
agitation among them. A voice, an authoritative bass voice, was audible,
crying, "Anthony!" A nurse appeared remotely going in the direction of
the aeroplane sheds, and her cry of "Master Anthony" came faintly on the
breeze. An extremely pretty young woman of five or six and twenty became
visible standing on one of the great prostrate stones in the centre of
the place. She was a black-haired, sun-burnt individual and she stood
with her arms akimbo, quite frankly amused at the disappearance of
Master Anthony, and offering no sort of help for his recovery.


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