The glow deepened on her face, and a bright moisture appeared in her eyes as she glanced upwards.
“That’s very, very foolish. But you said it as if you meant it.”
“I did indeed, Yvonne.”
“Let us go and find a place under the trees,” she said softly.
They left the main avenue and wandered on over the green turf, seeking for a long time a piece of shade untenanted by sprawling men, or lovers, or heterogeneous families. At last they found a lonely tree and sat down beneath it.
“Are you happier here?” she asked.
“Much. It is so peaceful. When I was in South Africa I yearned for civilisation and men and women. Now I am in London, I am happiest away from them. Men are funny animals, Yvonne.”
Yvonne looked down at the ground and nervously plucked at the grass. Then she raised her eyes quickly.
“When are you going to be quite happy, Stephen?”
“I am happy enough now.”