Emmy played with the ear of the dog and looked out to sea.
It was very peaceful.

After a while she sighed.
"I suppose this must be our last evening together." "I suppose it must," said Septimus.
"Are you quite sure you can afford all the money you're leaving with me ?" "Of course.

It comes out of the bank." "I know that, you stupid," she laughed.

"Where else could it come from unless you kept it in a stocking?
But the bank isn't an unlimited gold-mine from which you can draw out as many handfuls as you want." Septimus knocked the ashes out of his pipe.
"People don't get sovereigns out of gold-mines.

I wish they did.