2. BEAUTIFUL STRANGER
John Green was finishing the last details of the picture when he saw the young woman. He looked up surprised into the direction she was coming from. The artist left his drawing block and pencils and headed toward her. It was nice, cool morning in one London' park. There was a flood rain last night and a lot of black clouds covering the sky. He thought the storm will continue for three days, but the dawn cleared everything although the ground was still wet and muddy. So John decided to leave his a bit depressing studio and get over with his last project. He didn't know how long has he worked, may be one hour. And she appeared. The woman looked quite wretched: barefoot and with bedraggled dress, wet and muddy. But her natural beauty was obvious, he appreciated it as an artist and man. Magnificent, crimson hair, creamy skin, perfect figure and astonishing blue eyes. At the moment - full of despair and confusion. That led him to the main reason to notice her and he stopped enjoying her face. What is this beauty doing in such a cold place with no shoes and warm clothes? She seemed really dizzy and faltering, like she couldn't stand upright any longer. John came closer and asked carefully.
"Excuse me, Miss, are you OK?
"Yes" The stranger had a glorious voice with thin French accent, but a bit broken. Was she drunk?
"You don't look well. Are you sure you're not cold?
"Oh, no!" She laughed loudly and fell, not able to resist her dizziness. John caught her shaking body fast. Just now he realized how cold her skin was, almost like a dead body. "The love keeps me warm, oh, yeah, the love keeps me warm." The young man got scared of this behavior. The woman cut off these worries and fainted in his arms. John needed a few seconds to realize what had happened. He couldn't leave her like this. She would die or worst, being hurt by someone with more evil and wicked mind. He picked up the stranger's body and placed it on the bench, gathering his stuff in the bag. John covered her with his warm coat and directed to his studio as fast as possible. All the time the artist was rubbing her face, her lips grew paler and paler. After what seemed like eternity he reached the building and walked the stairs to the third floor. John opened the door and slammed it behind.
"You'll be all right!" The artist repeated more to himself than to the fainted woman. Now the most important was not to let her go. He ensconced her on the bed and pull out all blankets there were in the room, as well as the thickest shirt. John dressed her over the rugged dress and wrapped the blankets up her body and moved the bed near the fireplace. Gradually her face returned its color. The man sighed with relief. She would survive.
John Green was finishing the last details of the picture when he saw the young woman. He looked up surprised into the direction she was coming from. The artist left his drawing block and pencils and headed toward her. It was nice, cool morning in one London' park. There was a flood rain last night and a lot of black clouds covering the sky. He thought the storm will continue for three days, but the dawn cleared everything although the ground was still wet and muddy. So John decided to leave his a bit depressing studio and get over with his last project. He didn't know how long has he worked, may be one hour. And she appeared. The woman looked quite wretched: barefoot and with bedraggled dress, wet and muddy. But her natural beauty was obvious, he appreciated it as an artist and man. Magnificent, crimson hair, creamy skin, perfect figure and astonishing blue eyes. At the moment - full of despair and confusion. That led him to the main reason to notice her and he stopped enjoying her face. What is this beauty doing in such a cold place with no shoes and warm clothes? She seemed really dizzy and faltering, like she couldn't stand upright any longer. John came closer and asked carefully.
"Excuse me, Miss, are you OK?
"Yes" The stranger had a glorious voice with thin French accent, but a bit broken. Was she drunk?
"You don't look well. Are you sure you're not cold?
"Oh, no!" She laughed loudly and fell, not able to resist her dizziness. John caught her shaking body fast. Just now he realized how cold her skin was, almost like a dead body. "The love keeps me warm, oh, yeah, the love keeps me warm." The young man got scared of this behavior. The woman cut off these worries and fainted in his arms. John needed a few seconds to realize what had happened. He couldn't leave her like this. She would die or worst, being hurt by someone with more evil and wicked mind. He picked up the stranger's body and placed it on the bench, gathering his stuff in the bag. John covered her with his warm coat and directed to his studio as fast as possible. All the time the artist was rubbing her face, her lips grew paler and paler. After what seemed like eternity he reached the building and walked the stairs to the third floor. John opened the door and slammed it behind.
"You'll be all right!" The artist repeated more to himself than to the fainted woman. Now the most important was not to let her go. He ensconced her on the bed and pull out all blankets there were in the room, as well as the thickest shirt. John dressed her over the rugged dress and wrapped the blankets up her body and moved the bed near the fireplace. Gradually her face returned its color. The man sighed with relief. She would survive.