Her little white hand stole across the table. Its importance had vanished with her abandonment of compromise. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. "I haven't worn anything else in weeks. She took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on. I rather want them.
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