‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side. “Sure, I guess so. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. Nigel, do you know that I have been very jealous?” He avoided the invitation of her eyes. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing.
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