She had nothing to say for herself. ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. Whenever they stepped from the chairs, he stepped down. But remember my warning, and play the game!" Spurlock closed his eyes again. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. “You are positively eloquent to-night—both of you,” she declared. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. Over these boards the two arms of a guide-post serve to direct the wayfarer—on the right hand to the neighbouring villages of Neasdon and Kingsbury, and on the left to the Edgeware Road and the healthy heights of Hampstead.
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