There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it.
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