“I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. She’s taken my sword. White told me where to find you. Yes, I can readily believe it. I would have liked to know. Even, I do not mind to study this Latin so abominable. ’ ‘And if she can’t?’ asked Lucy.
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