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"The Port of Adventure"


She laughed like a schoolgirl, in sheer pleasure of motion which the big
car gave after martyrdom with the Model. She had travelled all over the
Old World, yet she said there was nothing anywhere prettier than
Riverside; no such petticoated palms as those that trailed the gray fans
of other years down to their feet like the feathers of giant owls; no such
pepper-trees; no such cypresses even in Italy, as these standing black as
burnt-out torches against the desert sky; no such rose-covered bungalows;
and, above all, no hotel so quaint as the Mission Inn.
The hour for luncheon was past, but Nick ordered flowers and a feast for a
dream-bride. Then, while it was preparing, the two walked in the garden
court and under pergolas where bunches of wistaria, lit from above by the
sun, hung like thousands of amethyst lanterns.
"I shall build a house like this in miniature," said Angela, half to
herself. "I can't have the shrines and the 'Mission' Arches with the
bell-windows; but I can have the court and the arcades and the pergolas;
and a well and lots of fountains. Inside there shall be walls of natural
wood, and great beams across the ceilings, and big brick
chimneys--'Mission' furniture too, and Indian rugs and pottery.


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