"I pray that
you may."
To Brooks she seemed the same charming woman as usual, as he heard her
light laugh come floating across the hall, and bowed over her white
fingers. But Sybil saw the over-bright eyes and nervous mouth and had
hard work to keep back the tears. She piled the cushions about a dark
corner of the divan, and chattered away recklessly.
"This is a night of sorrows," she exclaimed, pouring out the tea. "Mr.
Brooks and I were in the midst of a most affecting leave-taking--when
the tea came. Why do these mundane things always break in upon the most
sacred moments?"
"Life," Lady Caroom said, helping herself recklessly to muffin, "is
such a wonderful mixture of the real and the fanciful, the actual and
the sentimental, one is always treading on the heels of the other. The
little man who turns the handle must have lots of fun."
"If only he has a sense of humour," Brooks interposed. "After all,
though, it is the grisly, ugly things which float to the top. One has
to probe always for the beautiful, and it requires our rarest and most
difficult sense to apprehend the humorous.
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