She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. I didn’t understand before that letter. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. Even the basest objects sold in the 24 roadside shops were beautiful in some way. The inn was a military haunt. Here, put it on your finger. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside.
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