The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. She had to school herself to speak the words which she knew would cut him like a knife. He hated horizons. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. She was pensive and thoughtful. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. ’ Hilary Roding groaned, but obediently followed Gerald as he began to make his way through the trees towards the back to a vantage point from where they might examine the rear of Remenham House. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. Afterwards, it may be different.
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