Explore "When Pippa Passed" by Josephine Daskam Bacon on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mr. Delafield, stepping comfortably forth from his club, had dined especially well, and was in a correspondingly good humour. As the brisk March wind swept across the corner just in front of him, he meanwhile settling his glossy hat more firmly on a fine, close-clipped grey head, a sudden kindly impulse, not entirely usual with him, sent him bending to his knee to pick up the fugitive slip of white, scribbled foolscap that fluttered by him, hotly pursued by a slender young man.
"Thanks. Oh, thanks! " murmured the pursuer, as Delafield, with a courteous inclination of the head, tendered the captured slip.