“Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. . ’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. ” “I hope,” he answered, looking at her in some surprise, “that we shall have many more such to think about. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions.
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