work, whatever it might be, and not make a fool of himself! At all events, nothing was to be gained by grumbling at Fate.
 | An image should appear at this position in the text. To use the entire page scan as a placeholder, edit this page and replace "{{missing image}}" with "{{raw image|An orchard princess (IA orchardprincess00barbiala).pdf/179}}". Otherwise, if you are able to provide the image then please do so. For guidance, see Wikisource:Image guidelines and Help:Adding images. |  |
When he got back to the studio
Hunter was just sitting down to luncheon.
Miles took his place at the table,
trying to behave as though the very
bottom of things hadn't suddenly
fallen out. Hunter eyed him furtively,
but asked no questions. He knew
Miles pretty well. After the meal was
done the two men lighted their pipes.
Hunter dragged a pile of old canvases
out of a cupboard and began sorting
them over. Miles threw himself on the
long window-seat and Bistre climbed
to his lap. The nasturtiums in the box
outside waved their green disks of
leaves in the breeze. At last Miles sat
up and scraped the tobacco from his
bowl.
