A Rose of Yesterday
"[...]might have had such a daughter as Sylvia, but with other eyes. "I am glad you are fond of me," he said. "You are very good to me, and I know I am a tiresome old man." At that word, one beat of the girl's heart sent resentful blood to her face. "You are not old at all!" she cried. "And you could not be tiresome if you tried! And I am not good to you, as you call it!" The girl's young anger made him think of summer lightning, and of the sudden flashing of new steel drawn silently and swiftly from the sheath into the sunshine. "Goodness may be a matter of opinion, my dear," said he. "But age is a matter of fact. I was fifty-three years old on my last birthday." "Oh, what do years matter?" Sylvia rose quickly and turned from him, [...]."
- Paperback | 132 pages
- 152 x 229 x 7mm | 186g
- 03 Mar 2015
- Illustrations, black and white