“It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. “I’m going to talk of indifferent themes,” said Ramage, a little fussily, “until these interruptions of the service are over. Monsieur Charvill, he has not the means to choose different. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. I can withstand sunlight. He felt the first sting of the whip.
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