“You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. It was not a hopeful looking group. He lives in constant dread of a reappearance of ‘La Belle Alcide,’ and hearing it said that she is his wife’s sister. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. Jack's heart was too full to allow him to derive any pleasure from this scene; so he strolled on without raising his eyes till he arrived at Kensal Green. That might happen on her birthday—in August. ’ He sighed. It was time to get up.
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