'
He agreed, and they went out and sat, somewhat awkwardly, on an
uncomfortable stone seat.
There was a delicious half-hour of real summer sun--'One of those April
days that seem a forecast of June,' as Madame Frabelle said.
'How much better it is to be here in the beautiful fresh air than
squeezed into a stuffy theatre,' remarked Bruce, who was really feeling
a shade jealous of Edith for seeing the revue that he had wished to see.
'Yes, indeed. There's nothing like England, I think,' she said rather
irrelevantly.
'How exactly our tastes agree.'
'Do they?'
Her hand was on the edge of the seat. Somehow or other Bruce's had gone
over it. She didn't appear to notice it.
'What small hands you have!' he remarked.
'Oh no! I take sixes,' said the lady, whose size was really
three-quarters more than that.
He insisted on looking at the grey suede glove, and then examined her
rings.
'I suppose these rings have--er--associations for you, Madame Frabelle?'
'Ah!' she said, shaking her head. 'This one--yes, this one--the sapphire
recalls old memories.' She sighed; she had bought it in the
Brompton Road.
'A present from your husband, I suppose?' said Bruce, with a tinge of
bitterness.
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