“No,” said Selden, as he fell into step beside her, “I was reflecting how ironical it is that the most beautiful spot on earth should be—what you see.”
“But it is always like that,” she pointed out. “Not only the pleasantest places, but the nicest things, belong to the people who least deserve them. You should write an article about it.”
Selden laughed grimly.
“That was a savage thrust!”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you suppose I know how futile it is—writing articles?”
“Is it futile?” she asked innocently.
“The most futile thing on earth! I ought to know; I’ve been doing it all my life, and it makes me sick to think of it. But don’t talk about it—don’t spoil this beautiful morning. How can we enjoy it best?”
“Suppose you suggest something,” she said, looking at him from under lowered lashes.
“You said you were in the mood for walking—did you mean just walking here on the terrace?”