It's nearly nine o'clock. Toddlekins wants her tea
before she goes to bed."
"Lucy has had her tea in the nursery," said Mrs. Lister, as she took her
seat before the cups and saucers.
"But she will have some more with papa," replied Martin, who had an
amiable knack of spoiling his children. There were only two--this bright
fair-haired Lucy, aged nine, and a sturdy boy of seven.
They sipped their tea, and talked a little about who had been at church
and who had not been, and the room was filled with that atmosphere of
dulness which seems to prevail in such households upon a summer Sunday
evening; a kind of palpable emptiness which sets a man speculating how
many years he may have to live, and how many such Sundays he may have to
spend. He is apt to end by wondering a little whether life is really
worth the trouble it costs, when almost the best thing that can come of
it is a condition of comfortable torpor like this.
Gilbert Fenton put down his cup and went over to one of the open windows.
It was nearly as dark as it was likely to be that midsummer night. A new
moon was shining faintly in the clear evening sky; and here and there a
solitary star shone with a tremulous brightness. The shadows of the trees
made spots of solemn darkness on the wide lawn before the windows, and a
warm faint sweetness came from the crowded flower-beds, where all the
flowers in this light were of one grayish silvery hue.
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