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"If we're lucky we shall. And we have been lucky, so far, my sweet, since first we knew each other. Have you never heard a nightingale before?"

"Never."

"In my home, at this time of the year, the woods are thick with them."

"You said that," she complained, "a little as though you wished yourself back there."

He laughed, and caught her hand.

"If you really meant that, I should think you exceedingly wicked. But as you don't mean it, I know you only want me to pay you more compliments. And I shan't, for it's late, the sun's going down and I must take you home."

"Home already? So soon?"

"Yes. It gets cold, on this lake, when the sun goes off it."

"Another day gone," Lina commented. "And so quickly. In one flash. Since I knew you, the days have flown faster than seconds. A hundred years would only seem like one, here."

He laughed, puiling at his oars.

"It's you, now, who are paying me compliments. My sweetheart, I shall be glad to get home. I'm hungry."

"You always are. Do all Englishmen eat as much as you?"

"They eat much more, I assure you. I'm supposed to have a small appetite at home. Yes, really, Lina, so don't look at me like that. And now be careful getting out— give me your hand, darling."

When they reached the villa Marie, wearing a lugubrious expression, came to meet them with some letters.

"Again that poor Monsieur Heinrich! And a letter for Monsieur, with an English stamp."

"We're hungry," said Lina. "We want some rolls and

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