‘Her purpose, if you will believe me, is to get herself a dowry so that she may marry an Englishman. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. ‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. ” Lucy reflected. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Hill closed his eyes.
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