THE W1NDOWHe said, It won’t rain; and instantly a Heaven ofsecurity opened before her. There was nobodyshe reverenced more. She was not good enoughto tie his shoe strings, she felt.

Already ashamed of that petulance, of thatgesticulation of the hands when charging at thehead of his troops, lVlr. Ramsay rather sheepishlyprodded his son’s bare legs once more, and then,as if he had her leave for it, with a movementwhich oddly reminded his wife of the great sealion at the Zoo tumbling backwards after swallowing his fish and walloping off so that the water inthe tank washes from side to side, he dived intothe evening air which, already thinner, was takingthe substance from leaves and hedges but, as if inreturn, restoring to roses and pinks a lustre whichthey had not had by day.‘ Someone had blundered,” he said again,striding oil`, up and down the terrace.

But how extraordinarily his note_had changed!It was like the cuckoo; “ in June he gets out oftune "; as if he were trying over, tentativelyseeking, some phrase for a new mood, and havingonly this at hand, used it, cracked though it was.But it sounded ridiculous—" Someone had blundered "—said like that, almost as a question,without any conviction, melodiously. l\/Irs.Ramsay could not help smiling, and soon, sure55

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