Page:The Unspeakable Gentleman (IA unspeakablegent00marq).pdf/161



The sun had finally broken through the clouds, and already its rays were slanting into the room, falling softly on the dusty furniture, and making the shadows of the vines outside dance fitfully on the wall by the fire; and the shadows of the elms were growing long and straight over the rain soaked leaves, and the rank, damp grass of our lawn. It was the dull, gentle sunshine of an autumn afternoon, soft and kindly, and yet a little bleak.

"Yes," said my father, "it is nearly over. It turns into a simple matter, after all. I wonder, Mademoiselle, will you be sorry? Will you ever recall our weeks on the highroad? I shall, I think. And the Inn in Britanny, with Brutus up the road, and Ned Aiken swearing at the post boys. At least we were living life. And the Eclipse—I told you they would never beat us on a windward tack. I told you, Mademoiselle, the majority of mankind were very simple people."

"And you still feel so?" she asked him.