Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/320

312 “We’ll be married soon, my bird—are ter glad?—in a bit—tha’rt glad, aren’t ta?”

She looked up at him as if he were noble. Her love for him was so generous that it beautified him.

He had to walk his bicycle home, being unable to ride; his shins, I know, were a good deal barked by the pedals.