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1、A DILL PICKLE AND then, after six years, she saw him again. He was seated at one of those little bamboo tables decorated with a Japanese vase of paper daffodils. There was a tall plate of fruit in front of him, and very carefully, in a way she recognized immediately as his special way, he was peelin
2、g an orange. He must have felt that shock of recognition in her for he looked up and met her eyes. Incredible! He didnt know her! She smiled; he frowned. She came towards him. He closed his eyes an instant, but opening them his face lit up as though he had struck a match in a dark room. He laid down
3、 the orange and pushed back his chair, and she took her little warm hand out of her muff and gave it to him. Vera! he exclaimed. How strange. Really, for a moment I didnt know you. Wont you sit down? Youve had lunch? Wont you have some coffee? She hesitated, but of course she meant to. Yes, Id like
4、some coffee. And she sat down opposite him. Youve changed. Youve changed very much, he said, staring at her with that eager, lighted look. Page 229 You look so well. Ive never seen you look so well before. Really? She raised her veil and unbuttoned her high fur collar. I dont feel very well. I cant
5、bear this weather, you know. Ah, no. You hate the cold. . . . Loathe it. She shuddered. And the worst of it is that the older one grows . . . He interrupted her. Excuse me, and tapped on the table for the waitress. Please bring some coffee and cream. To her: You are sure you wont eat anything? Some
6、fruit, perhaps. The fruit here is very good. No, thanks. Nothing. Then thats settled. And smiling just a hint too broadly he took up the orange again. You were sayingthe older one grows The colder, she laughed. But she was thinking how well she remembered that trick of histhe trick of interrupting h
7、erand of how it used to exasperate her six years ago. She used to feel then as though he, quite suddenly, in the middle of what she was saying, put his hand over her lips, turned from her, attended to something different, and then took his hand away, and with just the same slightly too broad smile,
8、gave her his attention again. . . . Now we are ready. That is settled. The colder! He echoed her words, laughing too. Ah, ah. You still say the same things. And there is another thing about you that is not changed Page 230 at allyour beautiful voiceyour beautiful way of speaking. Now he was very gra
9、ve; he leaned towards her, and she smelled the warm, stinging scent of the orange peel. You have only to say one word and I would know your voice among all other voices. I dont know what it isIve often wonderedthat makes your voice such ahaunting memory. . . . Do you remember that first afternoon we
10、 spent together at Kew Gardens? You were so surprised because I did not know the names of any flowers. I am still just as ignorant for all your telling me. But whenever it is very fine and warm, and I see some bright coloursits awfully strangeI hear your voice saying: Geranium, marigold, and verbena
11、. And I feel those three words are all I recall of some forgotten, heavenly language. . . . You remember that afternoon? Oh, yes, very well. She drew a long, soft breath, as though the paper daffodils between them were almost too sweet to bear. Yet, what had remained in her mind of that particular a
12、fternoon was an absurd scene over the tea table. A great many people taking tea in a Chinese pagoda, and he behaving like a maniac about the waspswaving them away, flapping at them with his straw hat, serious and infuriated out of all proportion to the occasion. How delighted the sniggering tea drin
13、kers had been. And how she had suffered. But now, as he spoke, that memory faded. His was the truer. Yes, it had been a wonderful Page 231 afternoon, full of geranium and marigold and verbena, andwarm sunshine. Her thoughts lingered over the last two words as though she sang them. In the warmth, as
14、it were, another memory unfolded. She saw herself sitting on a lawn. He lay beside her, and suddenly, after a long silence, he rolled over and put his head in her lap. I wish, he said, in a low, troubled voice, I wish that I had taken poison and were about to diehere now! At that moment a little gir
15、l in a white dress, holding a long, dripping water lily, dodged from behind a bush, stared at them, and dodged back again. But he did not see. She leaned over him. Ah, why do you say that? I could not say that. But he gave a kind of soft moan, and taking her hand he held it to his cheek. Because I k
16、now I am going to love you too muchfar too much. And I shall suffer so terribly, Vera, because you never, never will love me. He was certainly far better looking now than he had been then. He had lost all that dreamy vagueness and indecision. Now he had the air of a man who has found his place in life, and fills it with a confidence and an assurance which w
