Before them the
breeze, blowing back the waves into the sun again turned the spray to gold.
Tiny figures, in all this glory, they embraced. In all the world they
seemed the only living thing....
III
They had their witness. The old woman who lived in the heart of those black
trees, was deaf and dumb indeed, but her eyes were alive in her fading and
wrinkled body.
When the door had closed she rose slowly from her chair, and her face was
wrinkled with the passion of the hatred that her old soul was feeling.
What did they mean, those two, coming there and haunting her with their
youth and strength and love. Kissing there before her as though she were
already dead--she to whom kisses were only bitter memories.
Her face worked with fury--she hobbled, painfully, to the door and opened
it.
Below her, on a floor of gold, two black figures stood together.
Gazing at them she raised her thin and trembling hand; she flung with a
passionate, furious gesture, something from her.
A small silver coin glittered in the air, whistled for a moment and fell.
CHAPTER IV
THE ROUNDABOUT
I
Mrs. Rossiter and Mrs. Galleon sat solemnly, with the majesty of spreading
skirts and Sunday Best hats, in the little drawing-room of The Roundabout,
awaiting the return from the honeymoon.
The Roundabout is the name that Peter has given to the little house in
Dorset Street, Chelsea, that he has chosen to live in with his bride.
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