"I wish I could make it sound like that."
They stood on the Kendals' doorstep, in the dark, under the snow. Snow powdered the flagstone path swept ready for the New Year's party.
"Think," she said, "their poor party. It would be awful of us."
Roddy rang. As they waited they began to laugh again. Helpless, ruinous, agonising laughter.
"Oh—oh—I can hear Martha coming. Do something. You might be unbuckling my snow-shoes."
The party was waiting for them in the drawing-room. Dr. Charles. Miss Louisa Wright, stiff fragility. A child's face blurred and delicately weathered; features in innocent, low relief. Pale hair rolled into an insubstantial puff above each ear. Speedwell eyes, fading milkily. Hurt eyes, disappointed eyes. Dr. Charles had disappointed her.
Dorsy Heron, tall and straight. Shy hare's face trying to look austere.
Norman Waugh, sulky and superior, in a corner.
As Roddy came in everybody but Norman Waugh turned round and stared at him with sudden, happy smiles. He was so beautiful that it made people happy to look at him. His very name, Rodney Olivier, sounded more beautiful than other people's names.
Dorsy Heron's shy hare's eyes tried to look away and couldn't. Her little high, red nose got redder.