The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. It was Blueskin. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. We LIKED each other well enough.
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