Then he looked across at Mrs Sindlesham. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent.
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