“Madame Boncour.”
“Of course. You must know everybody.... It's so small.”
“And you're going to stay here a long time?”
“Almost forever, and work, and talk to you; may I use your piano now and then?”
“How wonderful!”
Genevieve Rod jumped to her feet. Then she stood looking at him, leaning against one of the twisted stems of the vines, so that the broad leaves fluttered about her face, A white cloud, bright as silver, covered the sun, so that the hairy young leaves and the wind-blown grass of the lawn took on a silvery sheen. Two white butterflies fluttered for a second about the arbor.
“You must always dress like that,” she said after a while.
Andrews laughed.
“A little cleaner, I hope,” he said. “But there can't be much change. I have no other clothes and ridiculously little money.”
“Who cares for money?” cried Genevieve. Andrews fancied he detected a slight affectation in her tone, but he drove the idea from his mind immediately.