Page:Ethel Churchill 1.pdf/199

Rh "Pray, 'fair inspirer of the tender strains,' let me lay the offering at your feet." "Under them, if you please," said she, her fine features expressing the most utter contempt; and, trampling the luckless compliment in the dust, she took Lord Hervey's hand, and, exclaiming,—"The atmosphere of this place is too oppressive for me," left the grotto: but part of her whisper to her companion was meant to be audible,—