It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. “Where am I?” he muttered. The Goopes were the oddest little couple conceivable, following a fruitarian career upon an upper floor in Theobald’s Road. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. I shall quit this roof to-morrow. Stanley had never thought out. But in a moment she believed she understood. After five or six years it would not be difficult to hide in Italy or in France.
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