"You can, of course, identify this picture as Lady Trafford's property?" pursued Jonathan, with a meaning glance, as he handed it to the knight. The stores, the drying bins, McClintock's bungalows and the native huts sprawled around an exquisite landlocked lagoon. They made a stratum into which Ann Veronica was now plunged up to her neck; it had become her stratum. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. “I’m inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform.
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