"I shall be the same, Anne. And you."
"Me? I wonder."
He rose, smiling down at her.
"Come," he said. "Don't let's be late."
She went.
v
In the garden with Maisie, the long innocent conversation coming back and back; Maisie's sweetness haunting her, known now and remembered. Maisie walking in the garden among the wall flowers and tulips, between the clipped walls of yew, showing Anne her flowers. She stooped to lift their faces, to caress them with her little thin white fingers.
"I don't know why I'm showing you round," she said; "you know it all much better than I do."
"Oh, well, I used to come here a lot when I was little. I sort of lived here."
Maisie's eyes listened, utterly attentive.