"Tush!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, angrily. When she saw however that this man was a stranger, and obviously harmless, her expression changed as though by magic. She was sorry to find Ramage a little disposed to be melancholy. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. He turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still. ‘Do you think I could bear to be without you for a moment longer? I am quite jealous of Melusine taking up all your attention. .
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