As she talked she was gradually learning detail.

Sir Nigel was on the Continent.
Apparently he often went there; also it revealed itself that no one knew at what moment he might return, for what reason he would return, or if he would return at all during the summer.

It was evident that no one had been at any time encouraged to ask questions as to his intentions, or to feel that they had a right to do so.
This she knew, and a number of other things, before they left the table.
When they did so they went out to stroll upon the moss-grown stone terrace and listened to the nightingales throwing 'm into the air silver fountains of trilling song.

When Bettina paused, leaning against the balustrade of the terrace that she might hear all the beauty of it, and feel all the beauty of the warm spring night, Rosy went on making her effort to talk.
"It is not much of a neighbourhood, Betty," she said.

"You are too accustomed to livelier places to like it." "That is my reason for feeling that I shall like it.