"I do think of growing old, but I don't see anything horrible in it."
"If Aldo were to leave you to-morrow, you would be alone ... and you would grow old."
"If Aldo left me to-morrow, for his own happiness, I should think it right and I should grow old, but I should not be alone, for I should have all my memories of his love and of our happiness, which is actual now and so real that there can be nothing else after it."
She got up.
"Are you going?"
"I have to. Come and lunch with us to-morrow. Will you come, Elly?"
"Thanks, Ottilie."
Ottilie looked out of the window. The sun beamed as it died away, from behind mauve and rose clouds, and the wind had subsided on the waves: the sea just rocked it softly on her rolling, deep-blue bosom, like a gigantic lover who lay resting in her lap after his spell of blazing ardour.
"How splendid those clouds are!" said Elly. "The wind has gone down."
"Always does, at this time," said Ottilie. "Look, Lot, there he is!"