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Hendaye， 6th April， 1926
Everything s changing so fast， she said. Isn t it stunning to
wake up every morning and feel that the whole world s branil-
aew again， a present waiting for you to unwrap it?
For emphasis she stabbed her foot-long cigarette holder
towards the Pyrenees， to declare them part of the present，
with the snow-glitter along the peaks a little tinsel to add
glamour to the gift.
It s all yours， he s~id， ~generously including in his gesture not
only the mountains but the nearer landscape， and the cubist
spillage of roofs down the slope below the terrace and the two
crones in black creaking up a cobbled alley， and nearer still the
elderly three-piece band nobly attempting a Charleston while
their souls still pined for the Vienna Woods， and even the
braying group of young French rich， already into their third
cocktail at half past three.
She threw back her head and laughed like a boy. Her teeth
gshed like the sudden glimpse of brilliance along the wing-front
of a White Admiral when it snaps its wings open and shut again.
He felt woozy with love for her. Three days ago， when he had
first met her， she had seemed to be just the kind of pretty flibber-
tigibbet you would expect Bertie Panhard to fill his villa with for
Easter. Then chance had paired them in the foursomes against
the great Joyce Mallahide and Bertie himself--Mrs. Mallahide
ageing now but implacably steady， and Bertie wild with his
drives but deadly with his putter. Incredibly the match had gone
to the twentieth， with side-bets accumulating which would bite
deep into next quarter s allowance. Then she had sliced her
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