in the old fashion, together.

"But do look at the sunlight coming down through the trees, and
the water beyond there," Nancy presently said. "Isn't it a lovely
place--Holly Court? Really this is a wonderful garden."

"That's what I was thinking," Bert agreed. It had been many
months, perhaps years, since the Bradleys had commented upon the
sunlight, as it fell all summer long through the boughs of their
own trees.

Gradually the crowd melted away, and the acrid odour of wet wood
mingled with the smell of burning. And gradually that second odour
gave way to the persuasive sweetness of the summer evening, the
sharp, delicate fragrance that is loosed when the first dew falls,
and the perfumes of reviving flowers. Holly Court still smoked
sulkily, and here and there in its black ruins some special object
flamed brightly: Nancy's linen chest and the pineapple bed went on
burning when the other things were done. It was nearly sunset when
the Bradleys walked slowly about the wreck, and laughed or
bemoaned themselves as they recognized what was gone, or what was
left.




Chapter Thirty-six


That night they slept in the garage. With a flash of her old