'Look at that magnificent cloud by the sun!' 'Isn't the rain sweet here ?' she continued, anxious to re-establish the quiet, natural tone between them.

'I like the perfume and the taste of it.

I remember how mournful the rain used to be in London streets.' They regained the house.

Annabel passed quickly upstairs.

Egremont remained standing in the porch, looking forth upon the garden.