“We didn’t come away to talk.”
“No.”
She came close to his side.
“René, kiss me. Say you love me.”
“I love you.”
But it was better to sit in silence and gaze out at the sea, gray and green.
She clung to him, caressed him, used absurd little phrases, English and German.
“I loved you,” she said, “from the first moment when you came into the Smallmans’ drawing-room. I was wearing green. Do you remember?”
“Green. Yes. I remember. I saw your parasol in the hall.”
“And you loved me from the moment when you saw my parasol.”