" And then there were
several months of wandering--"without undue haste, but otherwise just
like any other tourists," wrote Sylvia. They went leisurely from place to
place, as the weather dictated and their own inclinations advised. Part
of the time Edith and Peter were with them, but even then they were
nearly always alone, for Edith was not strong enough to keep up, even
with their moderate pace. They revisited places dear to both of them,
they sought out many new ones; early spring found them in Paris; and it
was here that there finally came an evening when Austin put his arms
around his wife's shoulders--they had made a longer day of sight-seeing
than usual, and she looked pale and tired, as having finished dressing
earlier than he she sat in the window, looking down at the brilliant
street beneath them, waiting for him to take her down to dinner--and
spoke in the unmistakably firm tone that he so seldom used.
"It's time you were at home, Sylvia--we're overstaying our holiday. I'll
make sailing arrangements to-morrow.
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