‘He is not in England, you understand. “That cannot happen!” She replied, feeling her world start to disintegrate underneath her feet. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. She pulled away from him, placing her fingers on his lips for a moment. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness. ’ ‘No, perhaps not,’ Gerald agreed with a smile. Don't feel fussed upon my account. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise.
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