Renata knelt by the fire with her back to him and took off her long soft gloves, her bracelets making a little jangling sound. Then she saw the torn picture and picked it up and shook her head disapprovingly. The overturned box lay nearer the sofa. She picked that up too, and began replacing its contents in a matter-of-fact way.
“You can’t possibly see things in this light,” she remarked. “It is getting quite dark. Do you want a light, Aymer?”
“No,” said Aymer abruptly, turning so that he could see her.
She sat down in a big chair the other side of the hearth and began chatting of the very serious At Home she had just attended in Winchester. 67
The black mood slipped from him, and with it the sense of need and incompleteness. It had melted as snow before a fire the moment he had heard the swish of her dress across the floor, and the breath of violets reached him. He forgot even to be ashamed of his own passing weakness as he watched her. She was all in brown with strange beautiful gold work shining here and there. She had flung back her furs and there was a big bunch of violets in her dress. He watched her little white fingers unfasten them as she talked.
“If they would not think they were amusing themselves, I could endure it,” she said, “but they solemnly pretend it’s amusement and frivolous at that. One old lady told me gravely, she hardly thought it seemly that the Dean should so lend himself to the pleasures of the world. There, the violets are not spoilt at all. The Dean gave them to me: it’s the one thing he can do—grow violets. You shall have them all to yourself.” She fetched a silver cup and began arranging them. Aymer ceased to be tired, ceased to be anything but supremely content as his eyes followed her. She went on relating her experience until she had made him laugh, and then she came and sat on a little stool near him.
“May I have the babies down?”
Aymer pretended to grumble.
“You’ll go to them if I say no,” he complained, “so I have no option.”
The bell was rung and the babies ordered to descend.