But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. She recoiled. This time, there was no doubt, she did not sleep. “It’s the warming up of the year, the coming of the light mornings, the way in which everything begins to run about and begin new things. “Let me help you,” he begged. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine.
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