Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. Think of those days in Paris. Three more people came to meet them at the door. “Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right. Perhaps what I need is something to bite in.
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