There was going to be no quarter between these two. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. I had left Paris. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. He was always doing his best to call her attention to the fact that he was a man of spirit and quality and experience, and she a young and beautiful woman, and that all sorts of constructions upon their relationship were possible, trusting her to go on from that to the idea that all sorts of relationships were possible. And me, I know very much of soldiers. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. He cocked an eyebrow.
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