[Inclining her head.] C'est fini—après tout.
Philip.
[Bitterly.] Ho! Ho, ho, ho! [Another pause.] So when—when April comes—we—we sha'n't——!
Ottoline.
[Lowering her eyes—all gentleness again.] We sha'n't walk under the trees in the Champs-Elysées, Phil——
Philip.
Nor in the Allée de Longchamp—where we——
Ottoline.
No, nor in the Allée de Longchamp.
Philip.