"Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. For a moment she remained silent. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. ‘Alors, pig!’ she cried and lunged in quarte. For a long time neither spoke again. ” “I hope,” he answered, looking at her in some surprise, “that we shall have many more such to think about. . After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. Capes sat down in the armchair beside her.
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