No resentment of this behaviour appeared in her look or speech; as the meal went on, she talked more freely, and something of frank curiosity began to reveal itself in her countenance as she listened to him.
Ralph Pomfret having hobbled back to his study chair, to doze, if might be, for an hour or two, the others presently strolled out into the garden, where rustic chairs awaited them on the shadowy side.
"You have your pipe, I hope ?" said the hostess, as Warburton stretched himself out with a sigh of content.
"I have." "And matches ?" "Yes--No! The box is empty." "I'll send you some.

I have one or two things to see to indoors." So Will and Rosamund sat alone, gazing idly at the summer sky, hearing the twitter of a bird, the hum of insects, whilst the scents of flower and leaf lulled them to a restful intimacy.

Without a word of ceremony, Will used the matches that were brought him, and puffed a cloud into the warm air.

They were talking of the beauties of this neighbourhood, of the delightful position of the house.
"You often come out to see my uncle, I suppose," said Rosamund.
"Not often, I'm seldom free, and not always in the humour." "Not in the humour for _this_ ?" "It sounds strange, doesn't it ?" said Will, meeting her eyes.

"When I'm here, I want to be here always; winter or summer, there's nothing more enjoyable--in the way of enjoyment that does only good.