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tent mischief. After all, the remembrance did not lessen the likeness. Miss Margot looked as if she might--under provocation--display a prickle or two of her own! "What do I think about?" he repeated slowly. "That is rather a difficult question to answer; but this good little river, I am thankful to say, does not leave one much time for thought. There's a little channel just beyond the bridge that is a favourite place for sea trout. Would you like to see it?" "Might I? Really? Oh, please!" cried Margot, all in a breath. Her very prettiest "please," accompanied by a quick rise to her feet which emphasised the eagerness of her words. George Elgood lost no time in following her example, and together they walked briskly away towards the head of the dell; that is to say, in the opposite direction to that taken by the other members of the party. George Elgood had picked up his fishing-tackle as he went--by an almost unconscious impulse, as it seemed--and unconsciously his conversation drifted to the all-absorbing topic. "If we take a sharp cut across this hill--I'll give you a hand down the steep bits!--we hit the river at the best spot. You have been grumbling at the wet weather, but you will see the good effects of rain, from a fisherman's point of view. The river is full from bank to bank, rushing down to the sea. It is a fine sight, a river in flood! I don't know anything in Nature which gives the same impression of power and joy. That's where Norway has the pull. Her mountains can't compare with the Swiss giants, but everywhere there is a glorious wealth of water. No calm sleeping lakes, but leaping cataracts of rivers filling whole valleys, as my little stream here fills its small banks; roaring and dashing, and sparkling in the sun. Norway is perfection, from a fisherman's point of view; but there is plenty of sport to be found nearer home. I have had no cause to complain for the last fortnight. This way--to the right! It's just a little rough going at first, but it cuts off a good mile. You are sure you don't mind?" Margot's laugh rang out jubilantly. She scrambled up the steep mountain path with nimble feet, easily out-distancing her guide, until the hilltop was reached, and she stood silhouetted against the sky, while the wind blew out her white skirts, and loosened curling tendrils of hair. Below could be traced the course of the river, winding in and out in deep curves, and growing e
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