” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. He spoke in quick nervous sentences. Spurling, who sat on the right of the table. ‘Parbleu, but it is not comfortable in the least in there. My heart misgives me. I have suffered too much from your treachery. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. I don’t know. She was very pale, and there was a look of fear in her eyes.
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