“Under those pines over there. We supposed you’d see us and come up.”
Barres glanced at her with an inscrutable expression; Dulcie’s grey eyes rested on Barres. Thessalie walked over to the reddened pool.
“It’s like a prophecy of blood, that water,” she said. “And over there the world is in flames.”
“The Western World,” added Westmore, “I hope it’s an omen that we shall soon catch fire. How long are you going to wait, Garry?”
Barres started to answer, but checked himself, and glanced across at Dulcie without knowing exactly why.
“I don’t know,” he said irresolutely. “I’m fed up now.... But——” he continued to look vaguely at Dulcie, as though something of his uncertainty remotely concerned her.
“I’m ready to go over when you are,” remarked Westmore, placidly smiling at Thessalie, who immediately presented her pretty profile to him and settled down on the fountain rim beside Dulcie.
“Darling,” she said, “it’s about time to dress. Are you going to wear that enchanting white affair we discovered at Mandel’s?”
Barres senior came sauntering out of the woods and through the wall gate, switching a limber rod reflectively. He obligingly opened his creel and displayed half a dozen long, slim trout.