A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. The evenings were dulcet and soft. Nigel Ennison, Annabel. One main avenue was for her to become a sort of salaried accessory wife or mother, to be a governess or an assistant schoolmistress, or a very high type of governess-nurse. Her mind went on generalizing. His glasses were gone. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her.
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