File:The Saturday evening post (1920) (14781871431).jpg

Identifier: saturdayeveningp1933unse (find matches)
Title: The Saturday evening post
Year: 1839 (1830s)
Authors:
Subjects:
Publisher: Philadelphia : G. Graham
Contributing Library: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

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d terrace.The house was white marble, built low and shallow, with along flight of steps dipping down to the acres that belongedto it. His eyes swept the vast stretch of the Pacific, traveledback to the mountains that seemed to cut off this particu-lar coast line from the rest of the world, and returned tothe villa which had been the last of many homes erected bythe late Hiram Blake, multimillionaire. They rested on itKngeringly, with a kind of shamefaced pride. This househad been his first big commission as a young architect, andhe never looked at it without the pride of creation, whichafter all is more soul satisfying than pride of possession.True, the credit for it had never been his. That had goneto the established firm of architects employing him at thetime. But he knew, and Nina Blake knew, and that was allhe wanted. He looked down, eagerly searching the garden belowuntil he found the wide-backed chair with its revealingtrail of lace like cobwebs across the grass. Then he hurried
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Why Let AnythingCome Between Us — WhyAnything In the World? Jimmy, Wont You —Wont You Look at Me? down the stone steps and past the swimming pool. Theoccupant of the chair heard him coming. She looked overone shoulder without turning her head. Hello, Jimmy Nichols, she called softly, her lips curv-ing in a slow smile. Have you had enough golf to makeyou as tired as you want to be? He dropped to the grass at her feet. His head went backand he took a deep breath to inhale the perfume-laden air.She could see the muscles play in his neck and jaw. Hiseyes, vital and disconcertingly direct, shone clean graywith the light of exercise and well-being. Above them thesharp-drawn brows almost met. Sitting there at her feet,he sent out that shielding warmth of the man who hasfought his way upward absolutely on his own. Nina Blakewanted to draw it round her like a cloak. Tired? Not a bit of it! What have you been doing allafternoon? She nodded toward the lizard. Ive been watching him. Hes such

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