Part 3 She dressed carefully for dinner in a black dress that her father liked, and that made her look serious and responsible. She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. ‘Yes, a very sad story,’ agreed the major. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. And it's a maxim of universal application: or, at least, of universal practice. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception.
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