"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic. ” The truth prevailed. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. He leaned forward to embrace her. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. “Those things are arranged more easily in any other country than England. “That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured.
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