” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. “No, stay, Lucy. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. I'll stamp twice when we've done.
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