And he peeped at them no more; but their soft, rapid talk came to his ears, with the stuttering song of some bird who seemed trying to remember the notes of spring: Joy⁠—tragedy? Which⁠—which?

And gradually their talk ceased; long silence followed.

“And where does Soames come in?” young Jolyon thought. “People think she is concerned about the sin of deceiving her husband! Little they know of women! She’s eating, after starvation⁠—taking her revenge! And Heaven help her⁠—for he’ll take his.”

He heard the swish of silk, and, spying round the laurel, saw them walking away, their hands stealthily joined.⁠ ⁠…