E. Phillips Oppenheim / EPhillips Oppenheim
Donde los libros
Librería 7artes
Librería Elías (Asturias)
Librería Kolima (Madrid)
Librería Proteo (Málaga)
The girl who was dying lay in an invalid chair piled up with cushions in a sheltered corner of the lawn. The woman who had come to visit her had deliberately turned away her head with a murmured word about the sunshine and the field of buttercups. Behind them was the little sanitarium, a gray stone villa built in the style of a château, overgrown with creepers, and with terraced lawns stretching down to the sunny corner to which the girl had been carried earlier in the day. There were flowers everywhere - beds of hyacinths, and borders of purple and yellow crocuses. A lilac tree was bursting into blossom, the breeze was soft and full of life. Below, beyond the yellow-starred field of which the woman had spoken, flowed the Seine, and in the distance one could see the outskirts of Paris. 'The doctor says I am better,' the girl whispered plaintively. 'This morning he was quite cheerful. I suppose he knows, but it is strange that I should feel so weak - weaker even day by day. And my cough - it tears me to pieces all the time.'
