The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. “Who is there to care and—John. Just sit down on that stool again and let’s talk of this in cold blood. "Of course," rejoined the bystander, who had just spoken, and who was of a cynical turn,—"the greater the rascal, the better they like him. Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends.
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