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udio in town, was content with rather a primitive state of things in his country cottage. It was sufficiently large, though part of it was partitioned off as a bedroom; the partition, for the sake of airiness, was only eight or nine feet high, and the furniture was of the plainest description; a white Indian matting covered the floor, and there were pink Madras curtains at the window. As Elizabeth pointed out, it could not have been closed for months, for actually beautiful clusters of roses had not only festooned the casement, but had found their way into the room, and hung their sweet heads over the sill, as though they were trying to reach the floor. Malcolm declared himself quite enchanted; he had never seen any place he liked better. There was room for his big bath--his tub he called it mentally--and a comfortable chair or two, and when he had concluded these little arrangements to his own satisfaction, he joined Elizabeth, who was making friends with a great sandy cat, who rejoiced in the doubtful name of Old Tom. "I am glad you are so pleased," she said in quite an interested tone, as they walked down the road again. "I hardly expected that you would be so easily satisfied. Cedric calls the Crow's Nest a wretched little hole." "Oh, he is so young, Miss Templeton--he is at the age when one has great expectations; we learn to moderate and alter our ideas as we grow older. Don't you remember Carmen Sylva's charming description of youth and age? I like it so much." Elizabeth shook her head. "I am afraid I do not read enough," she said rather sadly. But he looked at her very kindly. "She is one of the wisest and wittiest of women," he returned; "and she is your namesake too." "Oh yes, I know that." "When I go back to town may I send you her little book--"Thoughts of a Queen" it is called?" Elizabeth, after a moment's hesitation, thanked him and said she would be glad to see it. "It is well worth your perusal," he went on, too much engrossed by his subject to notice her hesitating manner. "But I have not given you her definition of youth." "'In youth,' she remarks, 'one is a mediaeval castle, with hidden nooks, secret chambers, mysterious galleries, trenches, and ramparts; one becomes afterwards a modern mansion, rich, morocco-leathered, elegant, stylish, and only open to the select; and ultimately a great hall open to the whole world, a market, a museum, or a cathedral.'" "I think I know w
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