There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. " "You trusted too much to your own skill, Jack," rejoined Thames. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. “So far you’ve got me and I you. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver.
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