Of course, he enjoys his good fortune--he's been through hard times." "Which would have been harder still, but for a friend of his," said Rosamund, with eyes thoughtfully drooped.
Warburton watched her as she spoke.

Her look and her voice carried him back to the Valley of Trient; he heard the foaming torrent; saw the dark fir-woods, felt a cool breath from the glacier.

Thus had Rosamund been wont to talk; then, as now, touching his elementary emotions, but moving his reflective self to a smile.
"Have you seen Miss Cross since you came back ?" he asked, as if casually.
"Oh, yes.

If I stay in England, I hope to live somewhere near her.
Perhaps I shall take rooms in London, and work at water-colours and black-and-white.

Unless I go to the Basque country, where my sister is.
Don't you think, Mr.Warburton, one might make a lot of drawings in the Pyrenees, and then have an exhibition of them in London?
I have to earn my living, and I must do something of that kind." Whilst Will was shaping his answer Mrs.Pomfret came toward them from the house, and the current of the conversation was turned.