The scent of the honeysuckle,🚃 delicately persistent over the other field flowers,🚉 was around them both. The windmill across the field was giving slow,🈺 rheumatic creaks. A bird was chirping noisily in the bushy hedge.
She nodded,😼 surprised to find that her eyes had suddenly filled with tears. Why,💿 she did not know. What had she been about to confess to him? It was just as well Billie had interrupted.
She went to the window and leaned out,♍ looking up at the darkly blue sky and the steady stars,💎 which watched in remote peacefulness over the traffic of Knightsbridge.