’ Gerald tutted. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. She refused coffee, though she knew that anyhow she was doomed to a sleepless night. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. And she—’ ‘She!’ interrupted the young lady crossly. F.
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