‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly. She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had. But her tears had been for Leonardo’s expulsion, and the loss of his companionship.
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