She was alone in the silence of the twilight.
Not for long, however. She heard the voice of Mrs. Thrale in the room behind her, followed by the protests of Dr. Johnson.
“Miss Burney and I want to have an undisturbed talk together about writing books,” Mrs. Thrale was saying as she came out upon the terrace.
“Books, madam; any fool can talk of books, and a good many fools avail themselves of the licence,” cried Johnson. “Miss Burney and I are going to talk about life. Books are not life, Miss Burney.”
“No, sir,” said Miss Burney slowly; “books are not life—books are not life.”
THE END