They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. He was aware of Hilary, in company with Lucilla and the comtesse’s daughter some few yards away, listening in suddenly. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers. . Ah, no, I have it wrong. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly.
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