” “I thought I was old enough,” she gasped, between laughter and crying. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. “Nor am I now,” he answered. " "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. Just one thing more.
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