"I know—odd at this time of year."
She touched his sleeve caressingly.
"What a nice rig! Blue's your colour—mine too, oddly. Red suits Ronald best. He's looking well, isn't he?"
"Like a fighting-cock! You've taken good care of him. And you … you're looking very much stronger …"
"You haven't said you're glad to see us back."
"And you … are you glad …?"
"If I'm glad!"
Basil bent to look into her eyes, gathered her up in her loose white dress, and her arms went round him in a clasp that seemed as if it could never loosen. They held one another, silent, for long, long moments, and to Teresa all bitterness, all chance of misunderstanding, seemed to ebb away out of consciousness. Just to have him there, in her arms, was like bread to a gnawing hunger, like water to a biting thirst.
••••••
They dined together at one of their old haunts, on a balcony overlooking a broad street. It was not a fashionable quarter. The restaurant and the street were full of foreign bourgeois people, less noisy because of the heat. Low thunder- clouds hung over the city; it seemed to gasp for breath. Teresa wore the white dress and hat which she had put into her steamer-trunk with
