‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. I saw someone in there whom I have always hoped that I should never meet again. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be.
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