BLTC Press Titles

available for Kindle at

The Revolt of the Netherlands

Friedrich Schiller

The Pictorial Key to the Tarot

Arthur Edward Waite

Theory of Colours

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Diplomatic Background of the War

Charles Seymour

A land girl's love story

by Berta Ruck


Long, long ago; long ago?"

Oijj Sono. "Who'll grow the bread of Victory? Who'll keep the country clean? Who'll reap Old England golden? Who'll sow her thick and green? Carry on, carry on! for the men and boys are gone, But the furrow shan't lie fallow while the women carry on."

Janet Begbie.

HE signature of the letter was —


Now, who in the world might he be? Richard Wynn? Wynn?

Ah! Suddenly I realized why the surname at least was familiar. Mr. Wynn! Of course! I placed him, now. I did remember. Sitting there, wan, on this the most miserable morning of my life, my thoughts were switched back just seven years.

Seven mortal years ago! A gap between a disillusioned young woman of twenty-two and a gawky eager child of fifteen, as I then was.

That had been in the days when we lived on the borders of Wales. My father had farmed, in a scrambling sort of way, the small estate that he owned there, and as he had to make ends meet somehow, he had taken in a trio of hobbledehoys as farm pupils — what they'd learnt from dear old Dad's antiquated methods goodness only knows.

Mr. Wynn was the eldest of these pupils. I don't think I'd ever taken as much interest in him as I had in the fox terrier puppy that he gave me just before he sailed for the ranch of an uncle in Canada. But I had hated his going away. I always did hate partings, even from the succession of mountain-bred cooks who stayed their six months with us. On that gloomy autumn morning, with the mountains blotted out by mist and the rain coming down in a steady drip-drip-drip on the slate roof, when we had all gathered in the veranda to say good-bye to the departing pupil I had suddenly felt like bursting into tears.

Mr. Wynn, the leggy, dark-haired Welsh lad of nineteen, had turned with his brand-new suit-case all ready labelled in his hand, had seen my blank look, had stared down upon me and had clutched me by the pigtail as I turned to flee.

"Nice kid, ripping kid," he'd muttered in a brusque, touched young voice. "Give us a kiss for good-bye, Joan."

And he'd drawn my head back by its plait and kissed me under the eyes of my amused family. They had ragged me about it for months. How should I, at that age, have guessed the difference between that and a real kiss? Years later Harry had slipped the real kisses into my life, in the course of conversation, so to speak, and by imperceptible degrees, which was Harry's insidious way of making love — none the less fatal!

Now, on the very day when love had left me in a way so very far from being imperceptible, here was this reminder from that other, forgotten young man, that went on:

"Plenty of things have happened since we said goodbye; but I've often wondered what became of the pretty kid with the thick brown pigtail. You'd a blue bow on it that day, and you never noticed that I walked off with that. I suppose there's just an off-chance that you are not married yet. Are you? If you aren't, would you care to marry me?"

I gasped as I came to this. Who wouldn't have been petrified?

"Would you care to marry me?"

But how — how fantastic! At breakfast-time upon this very day I'd had conveyed to me the devastating news that the one young man on whom my thoughts had hung wished to see no more of me. Now, at midday, here was shock No. 2. Another young man, of whom I hadn't thought since I was grown up, was actually proposing to me.

Both on one day!

Was I living in some wild dream of coincidences? But no. The Harry-wound went on aching steadily beyond this flash in the pan even as I read on.

... from the RetroRead library, using Google Book Search, and download any of the books already converted to Kindle format.

Browse the 100 most recent additions to the RetroRead library

Browse the library alphabetically by title

Make books:

Login or register to convert Google epubs to Kindle ebooks



Lost your password?

Not a member yet? Register here, and convert any Google epub you wish

Powerd by Calibre powered by calibre