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He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. F. Lucy felt herself go very red in the cheeks and lowered her hand rather slowly. “Everybody is taking it up,” said Miss Miniver. " "Never," replied Winifred. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig.
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