Edward Henry in the gloom caught Mr. Seven Sachs's unalterable observant smile across the table.
"Well, Mr. Machin?" said Carlo Trent.
Edward Henry had felt a tremor at the vibrations of Rose Euclid's voice. But the words she uttered had set up no clear image in his mind, unless it might be of some solid body falling from the air, or of a young woman named Helen, walking along Trafalgar Road, Bursley, on a dusty day, and getting the dust in her eyes. He knew not what to answer.
"Is that all there is of it?" he asked at length.
Carlo Trent said:
"It's from Thomas Nashe's 'Song in Time of Pestilence.' The closing lines of the verse are:
"Well," said Edward Henry, recovering, "I rather like the end. I think the end's very appropriate."
Mr. Seven Sachs choked over his wine, and kept on choking.
III
Mr.. Marrier was the first to recover from this blow to the prestige of poetry. Or perhaps it would be more honest to say that Mr.. Marrier had suffered no inconvenience from the contretemps. His apparent gleeful zest in life had not been impaired. He was a born optimist, of an extreme type unknown beyond the circumferences of theatrical circles.