He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. “Limp,” he answered. Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. "I cannot—will not suffer you to remain here. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means.
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