” So they talked on whilst supper was served, falling easily into the spirit of the place, and yet both of them conscious of some new thing underlying the gaiety of their tongues and manner. He was now almost driven to despair. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room.
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