Here the tune became undecided; and, a chance word recalling another context to her mind, she drifted suddenly into a hymn, and sang it with the same religious fervour as she had sung the other, her fair head flung back, and her hazel eyes gazing into Heaven....
I listened carefully. This was a bit I didn't recognise.... The tune wavered for a moment ... and out of it these words emerged triumphant—
"Talk of me to the boys you meet,
Remember me kindly to Regent Street,
And give them my love in the——"
"What's 'at, uncle?"
"That," I said, stroking it, "is dear uncle's nose."
"What's——"
By the way, would you like it all over again? No? Oh, very well.
V. AFTERNOON SLEEP
["In the afternoon they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.">[