"Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. “You will have some tea?” she asked. " Jack was about to comply; but not liking the man's manner, he walked on. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff.
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