He realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times. When I think of it—” “But these are things I want to tell you now!” “I made a little song of it. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. Sensitive, aren’t they?” She chuckled. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman.
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