He slid out of her. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. ’ ‘Get on, Hilary, do,’ begged Lucilla.
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