He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Michelle elaborated, “Things haven’t been going too well for them, true. For now, I fear there is something worse, something more present. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual.
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