" "I fancied I heard voices," rejoined Sir Rowland. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. . ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. Ennison listened, and he forgot where he was. She leaned a little towards him.
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