"What is the matter?" she said again. "Is anything the matter?"

"Oh, no, no," he said, and he gave himself a little shake like a
man wakening from deep sleep and trying to remember where he was.

"Well, then," she said.

"I found Mr. Clive," he said hardly and abruptly. And he repeated
again: "Yes, I found him."

They remained standing close together and facing each other, and
he saw her as through a veil of red, and it was as though a red
mist enveloped her, and where her shadow lay the earth was red, he
thought, and where she put her foot it seemed to him red tracks
remained, and never before had he understood how utterly he loved
her and must love her, now and for evermore.

But he uttered no sound and made no movement, only stood very still,
thinking to himself how dreadful it was that he loved her so greatly.

She was not paying him, any attention now. A rose bush was near by,
and she picked one of the flowers, and arranged it carefully at her
waist.

She said, still looking at him:

"Do you know--I wish you would shave yourself?"

"Why?" he mumbled.