Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. “You did a great job on my concerto today. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. Too much, perhaps. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her.
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