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—37—
Mid-
summer
summer
daughter, the girl who had waited on him a few hours before, and behind her came girls with like faces, no doubt the quiet modest girls of the English village, of the English farm-house.
For a moment they fronted him, shameless, unabashed before one another, and then they had passed.
He had seen their smiles, he had seen their gestures, and things that he had thought the world had long forgotten.
The white writhing figures passed up towards the glade, and the boughs hid them, but he never doubted as to what he had seen.
