James’ Park?” Anna nodded, and made a careful selection from a dish of quails. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him. "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried. “Well?” he asked her tersely. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. Without hindrance—present occupation.
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