Her cheeks flushed a dull red. Their flitting hands were always touching. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. ” Brendon was not inclined to be led away from the point. Pretty good stuff, some of it. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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