to
another. It wasn't their way. They were loyal to the last degree, but
loyalty was another matter. And if it came to that she was loyal to her
sister.

I shall never forget that dinner. I shall never forget Viola's coming in
with Jevons behind her.

She was, as I think I've said, a beautifully-made woman, with long limbs
and superb shoulders, and a way of holding her small head high. Well, she
came in (they were a little late) with her head higher than ever, and
with a sweep of her limbs, as if her crushed draperies (she was all in
white) were blown backward by a wind; her gauze scarf billowed behind her
as if it were wings or sails and the wind filled it. She was like the
Victory of Samothrace; she was like a guardian and avenging angel; she
was like a ship in full sail breasting a sea. Up to her eyes she was
everything that was ever splendid and courageous and defiant.

But her eyes--there was a sort of scared grief in them.

I had seen fright in her face once before, the day when she came into the
room at Hampstead with Jevons behind her and saw Reggie there. I said to
myself, "She always was afraid of Reggie." But that, for the second that
it lasted, was sheer fright. This was different. There was anguish in it;
and it was only in her eyes.

And Jevons's entry, this time, was simultaneous. Little Jimmy came behind
her, holding himself rather absurdly straight and breathing hard.

And there was Reggie Thesiger waiting for them, standing by the hearth
between Norah and me.

Oh yes, India had changed him. Surely, I thought, it must be India that
had made him so lean and stiff and hard. But he was handsomer even than
he had been five years ago, and he looked taller, he was so formidably
upright and well-built. (As a competitive exhibition Jimmy's straightness
was pitiful. And yet, if his antagonist had been anybody but Reggie, it
might have had a certain dignity.)

I wondered, "_How_ is she going to greet him? Will she lower her flag and
kiss him, or what?"

She sailed up to Norah first and kissed her. She shook hands with me. She
smiled at me (I don't know how she managed it). Then she turned to
Reggie.

She didn't lower her flag. She said, "Well, Reggie," as if they had met
yesterday. There was no kissing or any anticipation of a kiss; they shook
hands, not at arm's length, not in the least as if they had had a
quarrel, but like well-bred people in the house of strangers. It was all
beautifully done.