Poor Ben was not so fortunate. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. Won’t you come and have some tea with me? There is a new place in Bond Street,” he hastened to say, “where everything is very well done, and they give us music, if that is any attraction to you. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. " "Well, that's fine.
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