The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. ” Part 11 They sat for a time without speaking a word, in an enormous shining globe of mutual satisfaction. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. She was making it up. “Well?” she said, sitting down again.
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