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. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. I can’t but feel it’s an undesirable complication to drag in the Charvills at this point. Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him. "All my life I've dreamed of something like this," he said, divertingly, with a gesture which included the yacht. But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain.
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