"What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. “You blithering idiot!” he exclaimed. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. "I'll admit that.
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