” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. "More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. “Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. Jests are not for seasons like this. They did not spend most days together. Pole coolies came joggling along with bobbing blocks of jade—white jade, splashed and veined with translucent emerald green. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. The door closed softly upon her. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully.
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