Sandford spread her slice of toast. Daisy felt as if she loved
everybody, and was very happy. The summer air floated in at
the long windows, just as it used to do. It was _home_. Daisy
began to realise the fact.
Meanwhile attention ceased to be filled with her particular
affairs, and conversation flowed off as usual, away from her.
Preston still held his station at the back of the sofa, where
he dipped sponge-cake in tea with a wonderful persistency; in
fact, the question seemed to be whether he or the cake basket
would give out first; but for a while Daisy eat her toast in
happy quiet; watching everybody and enjoying everything. Till
Gary McFarlane drew near, and took a seat, as if for a regular
siege.
"So what about those incantations, Daisy?" he said.
"I do not know what you mean, Mr. McFarlane."
"No? don't you? That's odd. You have been so long in the
witch's precincts. You have heard them, of course?"
"I do not know what you mean, Mr. McFarlane."
"Why, you must have been bewitched. I wonder, now, if the
witch's house did not seem to you a palace?"
"It seemed a very nice place."
"And the witch herself a sable princess?"
"I think she is a great deal better than a princess.
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