"I wouldn't give up any of it, even to have been educated from the beginning. It used to seem dreadfully dull to sit there in the old Saal and watch the brethren and sisters, but I can see now that it was all beautiful. It was like the Rembrandt pictures in one of Father's books, all different shades of brown with sometimes a soft, golden light. I believe it was a good place for a child to be for a while."
Now, when Ellen entered, Stephen put aside his book and called her.
"Come here, Ellen."
Ellen sat down. Her cheeks glowed; her dark blue suit fitted closely her round figure; the eyes of Beatrix Esmond were no more shining, the head of Anna Karenina no more beautiful in shape. Stephen feasted his eyes, picturing her in dresses such as Hilda had worn, her smooth young flesh emerging flower-like from a gleaming sheath of delicate satin. She pushed her curls back from her forehead.
"How were the relatives?"
"All well."
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yes."
"Trunk packed?"
"Yes."