“Beautiful these autumn flowers are,” said Ann Veronica, in a wide, uncomfortable pause. It was hard to associate her with the stories which he and all Paris had heard of “Alcide. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. Anna never knew whither it had led her— sometimes she had fears. ‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. The moment he was out in the hall, Ruth sat up hugging and rocking her body in delight. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. She wrote it down. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing.
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