He is an awfully good sort— and now he has come to me to help him if I can. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. Panting with effort, she held her point menacingly at Gosse’s chest. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. The young ladies in the somewhat mixed society amongst which he moved neither satisfied his taste nor appealed in any way to his affections. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that.
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