"Falling out of the air on them," corrected Marjorie very softly.
"That was only an accident," said Mr. Trafford....
So they began a conversation in the lane where the trees met overhead that went on and went on like a devious path in a shady wood, and touched upon all manner of things....
§ 7
In the end quite a number of people were aggrieved by this dialogue, in the lane that led nowhither....
Sir Rupert Solomonson was the first to complain. Trafford had been away "three mortal hours." No one had come near him, not a soul, and there hadn't been even a passing car to cheer his ear.
Sir Rupert admitted he had to be quiet. "But not so damned quiet."
"I'd have been glad," said Sir Rupert, "if a hen had laid an egg and clucked a bit. You might have thought there had been a Resurrection or somethin', and cleared off everybody. Lord! it was deadly. I'd have sung out myself if it hadn't been for these infernal ribs...."
Mrs. Pope came upon the affair quite by accident.
"Well, Marjorie," she said as she poured tea for the family, "did you get your laces?"