Matthew was introduced to her. He explained that love was so important that it could only be discussed lightly. He said that her hair reminded him ... he wished he could think of what, but he had such a bad memory for metaphors. It took him all his time to remember that a harp was like water and Carpentier like a Greek god. It was funny, wasn't it, to have such a weak head. He thought it came from hay fever—he always had hay fever during the third week of May. It came entirely from honeysuckle.
Estelle said that she would like to sit in the library. Grace was in a corner pulling monosyllables out of her mouth like teeth.
Virginia was still in the middle of the sofa, a dissolving mass of orange mist. Edgar was talking away all risk of his suiting the action to the word. Estelle was dimpling.
"Do you remember," she said to Matthew, "that orange is flame-colour?"
"By Jove, yes," he said, "oriflammes and hell fire."
A low murmur came from the sofa.
"Will you introduce me to your husband?" Matthew asked.
They all talked together.
"By the way, Virginia," Matthew said, "the young man does love you."
"Dear me, how very nice."