"You 'ave a good place ?" Slowly the nurse yielded.

The novelette was laid aside.
Impossible to say what occurred under the tree.

Now and again a rustle of wind would send the colours from the trees to short branches loaded with leaves of red gold, shivering through the air; a chequered, blazing canopy covered the ground.
Mary Kitson had, it appeared, very little to say.

She sat some way from Sarah, clutching Adrian and Emily tightly to her breast, and always her large, startled eyes were on Sarah's face.

She did not move to drive the leaves from her dress; her heart beat very fast, her cheeks were very red.
Sarah talked a little, but not very much.