floated indefinitely like a cloud.

A young doctor lounged beside them, putty-coloured under his red plush
cap. "Why are all doctors plain in France?" she laughed.

"Hush!" He wound his hand round and round like the player of a barrel-
organ. "I have to stop you when you say silly things like a phonograph,
at so much a metre."

So he believed he might tease her.... Delighted, she stopped by the bank
of the river and stared into the water. The sun ran over her shoulders
and warmed her hands. The still shine of the river held both their eyes
as movement in a train holds the mind.

"I am enjoying my walk," he said. He did not mean it like that, or as a
compliment to her. When it was said he thought it sounded banal, and was
sorry. "What a pity!"

But she was not critical because she was looking for living happiness,
and every moment she was more and more convinced that she would get it.
But when he asked her her name and she repeated it, it sounded so much
like an avowal that they both turned together down the tow-path with a
quick movement and spoke of other things, for they were old enough to be
afraid that the vague happiness that fluttered before them down the path
would not be so beautiful when it was caught. And at this fear she said
distinctly to herself: "In love!" and wondered that she had not said
it before.

Coming back to him with her words, she then began to wound and to delay
him. "You mustn't be late for your office...."