Morality is a point of view. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine.
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