“Oh, I like it all right,” he answered, pressing his nose against the thick glass, “but I wanted it to be waving weeds and mysterious wetness like the Sabrina picture.”
The other three glanced at the picture which hung over the mantelpiece—Sabrina and the water nymphs, drifting along among the waterweeds and water lilies. There were words under the picture, and Francis dreamily began to say them:
“‘Sabrina fair,
Listen where thou art sitting,
Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave
In twisted braids of Lillies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair....’”
“Hullo—what was that?” he said in quite a different voice, and jumped up.
“What was what?” the others naturally asked.