He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. She raised this with the air of a conspirator unmasking, and displayed a tear-flushed face. Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him. He returned the locket without comment. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. “He writes very well,” said Ann Veronica. No doubt— because he did not understand you—he thought you had run away with someone. “I want to ask you a question,” he said. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Wanted a clean sweep for elbowroom.
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