If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. “Is it your maid?” he asked. Nevertheless Sydney, clumsily, but earnestly, had something to say about it. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals.
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