{"product_id":"2940013696648","title":"Sirius","description":"Then came her mother's last illness, and Plaxy vanished. Once or twice\u003cbr\u003eI received a letter from her, giving no address, but suggesting that I\u003cbr\u003emight reply to her \"care of the Post Office\" in a village in North\u003cbr\u003eWales, sometimes one, sometimes another. In temper these letters\u003cbr\u003eranged from a perfunctory amiability to genuine longing to have me\u003cbr\u003eagain. They contained mysterious references to \"a strange duty,\"\u003cbr\u003ewhich, she said, was connected with her father's work. The great\u003cbr\u003ephysiologist, I knew, had been engaged on very sensational experiments\u003cbr\u003eon the brains of the higher mammals. He had produced some marvelously\u003cbr\u003eintelligent sheep-dogs, and at the time of his death it was said that\u003cbr\u003ehe was concerned with even more ambitious research. One of the colder\u003cbr\u003eof Plaxy's letters spoke of an \"unexpectedly sweet reward\" in\u003cbr\u003econnection with her new duty, but in a more passionate one she cried\u003cbr\u003eout against \"this exacting, fascinating, dehumanizing life.\" Sometimes\u003cbr\u003eshe seemed to be in a state of conflict and torture about something\u003cbr\u003ewhich she must not explain. One of these letters was so distraught\u003cbr\u003ethat I feared for her sanity. I determined therefore to devote my\u003cbr\u003eapproaching leave to walking in North Wales in the hope of finding\u003cbr\u003eher.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI spent ten days wandering from pub to pub in the region indicated by\u003cbr\u003ethe addresses, asking everywhere if a Miss Trelone was known in the\u003cbr\u003eneighbourhood. At last, in Llan Ffestiniog, I heard of her. There was\u003cbr\u003ea young lady of that name living in a shepherd's cottage on the fringe\u003cbr\u003eof the moor somewhere above Trawsfynydd. The local shopkeeper who gave\u003cbr\u003eme this information said with an air of mystery, \"She is a strange\u003cbr\u003eyoung lady, indeed. She has friends, and I am one of them; but she has\u003cbr\u003eenemies.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFollowing his directions, I walked for some miles along the winding\u003cbr\u003eTrawsfynydd road and then turned to the left up a lane. After another\u003cbr\u003emile or so, right on the edge of the open moor, I came upon a minute\u003cbr\u003ecottage built of rough slabs of shale, and surrounded by a little\u003cbr\u003egarden and stunted trees. The door was shut, but smoke rose from a\u003cbr\u003echimney. I knocked. The door remained shut. Peering through a window,\u003cbr\u003eI saw a typical cottage kitchen, but on the table was a pile of books.\u003cbr\u003eI sat down on a rickety seat in the garden and noted the neat rows of\u003cbr\u003ecabbages and peas. Away to my right, across the deep Cynfal gorge, was\u003cbr\u003eFfestiniog, a pack of slate-grey elephants following their leader, the\u003cbr\u003eunsteepled church, down a spur of hill towards the valley. Behind and\u003cbr\u003eabove stood the Moelwyn range.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI was smoking my second cigarette when I heard Plaxy's voice in the\u003cbr\u003edistance. It was her voice that had first attracted me to her. Sitting\u003cbr\u003ein a cafe, I had been enthralled by that sensitive human sound coming\u003cbr\u003efrom some unknown person behind me. And now once more I heard but did\u003cbr\u003enot see her. For a moment I listened with delight to her speech,\u003cbr\u003ewhich, as I had often said, was like the cool sparkling talk of small\u003cbr\u003ewaves on the pebbly shore of a tarn on a hot day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI rose to meet her, but something strange arrested me. Interspersed\u003cbr\u003ewith Plaxy's remarks was no other human voice but a quite different\u003cbr\u003esound, articulate but inhuman. Just before she came round the corner\u003cbr\u003eof the house she said, \"But, my dear, don't _dwell_ on your\u003cbr\u003ehandlessness so! You have triumphed over it superbly.\" There followed\u003cbr\u003ea strange trickle of speech from her companion; then through the gate\u003cbr\u003einto the garden came Plaxy and a large dog.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe halted, her eyes wide with surprise, and (I hoped) with joy; but\u003cbr\u003eher brows soon puckered. Laying a hand on the dog's head, she stood\u003cbr\u003esilent for a moment. I had time to observe that a change had come over\u003cbr\u003eher. She was wearing rather muddy corduroy trousers and a blue shirt.\u003cbr\u003eThe same grey eyes, the same ample, but decisive mouth, which had\u003cbr\u003erecently seemed to me to belie her character, the same shock of\u003cbr\u003eauburn, faintly carroty hair. But instead of a rather pale face, a\u003cbr\u003eruddy brown one, and a complete absence of make-up. No lip-stick,\u003cbr\u003eeven. The appearance of rude health was oddly contradicted by a\u003cbr\u003edarkness under the eyes and a tautness round the mouth. Strange how\u003cbr\u003emuch one can notice in a couple of seconds, when one is in love!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer hand deserted the dog's head, and was stretched out to me in\u003cbr\u003ewelcome. \"Oh well,\" she said smiling, \"since you have nosed us out, we\u003cbr\u003ehad better take you into our confidence.\" There was some embarrassment\u003cbr\u003ein her tone, but also perhaps a ring of relief. \"Hadn't we, Sirius,\"\u003cbr\u003eshe added, looking down at the great dog.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47152727163120,"sku":"2940013696648","price":3.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013696648_p0.jpg?v=1763584677","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013696648","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}