She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. She taught me how to crochet and cross stitch. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. “I don’t believe there is one. Why should WE hoard? We aren’t going out presently, like Japanese lanterns in a gale. I’ll buzz him for you. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place.
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