\" Diane chirped once again, ever-musical. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. ’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder.
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