I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. “I’ll get dressed. There is something sensual in the thought of lotus flowers. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. ’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. “Oh, there’s no doubt of it! Since the girls of the eighties broke bounds and sailed away on bicycles—my young days go back to the very beginnings of that —it’s been one triumphant relaxation.
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