The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. He was nearly wincing. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious. “What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. Brendon’s guests,” she said, “and I scarcely think it would be nice of me to leave him alone with Sydney.
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