” She tried to sound convincing as she looked away hotly. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. For the sort of love-making you think about. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. "By means of the watchman who had the charge of me," replied Thames. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. She was now permitted freely to study the face. She always left the table when they began to smoke.
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