"And the little lady? What does she do?"
"Little things. Charming, delicious, funny, pathetic things. Everything she does is like herself."
"I must put her down too." And he made another note of Laura.
They had turned on to the lawn. Their host was visible, gathering great bunches of roses for his guests.
"What a lovable person he is," said Brodrick.
"Isn't he?" said Jane.
They faced the house, the little house roofed with moss, walled with roses, where, thought Jane, poor Nicky nested like the nightingale he wasn't and would never be.
"I wonder," said Brodrick, "how he gets the perfection, the peace, the finish of it, the little feminine touches, the flowers on the table——"
"Yes, Mr. Nicholson and his house always look as if they were expecting a lady."
"But," said Brodrick, "it's so pathetic, for the lady never comes."