“Just dreams.”
The elder lady smiled and kissed her, saying very distinctly: “You should have heard us talking about you, dear. He admires you more than ever. Dream of that.”
Lucy returned the kiss, still covering one cheek with her hand. Mrs. Vyse recessed to bed. Cecil, whom the cry had not awoke, snored. Darkness enveloped the flat.
Chapter XII
Twelfth Chapter
It was a Saturday afternoon, gay and brilliant after abundant rains, and the spirit of youth dwelt in it, though the season was now autumn. All that was gracious triumphed. As the motorcars passed through Summer Street they raised only a little dust, and their stench was soon dispersed by the wind and replaced by the scent of the wet birches or of the pines. Mr. Beebe, at leisure for life’s amenities, leant over his Rectory gate. Freddy leant by him, smoking a pendant pipe.
“Suppose we go and hinder those new people opposite for a little.”
“M’m.”
“They might amuse you.”
Freddy, whom his fellow-creatures never amused, suggested that the new people might be feeling a bit busy, and so on, since they had only just moved in.
“I suggested we should hinder them,” said Mr. Beebe. “They are worth it.” Unlatching the gate, he sauntered over the triangular green to Cissie Villa. “Hullo!” he cried, shouting in at the open door, through which much squalor was visible.