A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. One or the other. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. Out of the beaten track, far from the trails of men! He relaxed. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. ‘A convenient desire, Mademoiselle Charvill.
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