The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage.
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