“I think,” he said, “that I am right. ” He was strangely silent. There are so many girls nowadays who are quite unpresentable at tea, with their untrimmed laughs, their awful dispositions of their legs when they sit down, their slangy disrespect; they no longer smoke, it is true, like the girls of the eighties and nineties, nevertheless to a fine intelligence they have the flavor of tobacco. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. "He is," returned Quilt, significantly. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough.
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