Nor can we. “Never mind, old chap,” he declared. " "You terrify me," cried Mrs. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. Before you have lived—” He became darkly prophetic. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. . ” 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.
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