Chapter 18
It was one of those faultless June evenings when the only
mission of the faintly stirring breeze seems to be to carry
perfumes from garden to garden and to make the lightest of music
amongst the rustling leaves. The dinner-table had been set out of
doors, underneath the odorous cedar-tree. Above, the sky was an arc
of the deepest blue through which the web of stars had scarcely yet
found its way. Every now and then came the sound of the splash of
oars from the river; more rarely still, the murmur of light voices
as a punt passed up the stream. The little party at The Sanctuary
sat over their coffee and liqueurs long after the fall of the first
twilight, till the points of their cigarettes glowed like little
specks of fire through the enveloping darkness. Conversation
