She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love. . Here one might live the life of golden days. " CHAPTER IX. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. She had never seen so much food in her life as she saw at her own wedding feast. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. Few approached the émigrés directly, preferring to stare covertly from behind their fans, while pretending to admire the simple elegance of Lady Bicknacre’s neo-classical refurbishments. ’ She threw a melting look at Roding. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart.
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