Lily Christine [antikvár]

LILY CHRISTINE CHAPTER ONE In the tranquil and sympathetic mingling of their memories, that Saturday night became something unique and very charming. It was a memory to linger with, and linger they did, for what in the world came easier to them? They had a way of looking back on somebody, maybe some casual acquaintance who had long since forgotten them, with a kind of contemplative affection which must have bored their guardian angels tremendously. For it is notorious that, if there is one thing that bores a guardian angel more than another, it is slackness in his patient, and that is why there is no peace in this world. But our friends were hardened against the ambitious wiles of sirens, male and female, sacred and profane, and particularly on this occasion, when they had such a fine excuse for their nonsense. For weren't they on their holidays, and what is a holiday if it is not a festival, and what is a festival without a presiding goddess? So the memory of the toffee-coloured lady presided over their holidays, a deity misty, appealing, and rather sad. And, of course, lonely, for she was a very correct goddess, in line with the best traditions, and what was so particularly nice about her was that one could disbelieve in her attractively, as one can in the dear stately