“Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. And she had been doubting since that walk in the Zoological Gardens whether, indeed, he did simply care for her. I’m fine. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture.
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