F. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above. "She has no secrets from me.
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