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"Civilisation is most important, don't you think?" Anne held up her hand. "I won't advise," she said. "You must make the decision." "Gombauld's family," Mary went on reflectively, "comes from Marseilles. Rather a dangerous heredity, when one thinks of the Latin attitude towards women. But then, I sometimes wonder whether Denis is altogether serious-minded, whether he isn't rather a dilettante.
Anne held up her hand as though to ward off a blow. "Don't bludgeon me, please." She sat down on the bench beside him. He was a nice boy, she thought, quite charming; and Gombauld's violent insistences were really becoming rather tiresome. "Why don't you wear white trousers?" she asked. "I like you so much in white trousers." "They're at the wash," Denis replied rather curtly.
Crome Fair was over. By the edge of the pool two figures lingered. "No, no, no," Anne was saying in a breathless whisper, leaning backwards, turning her head from side to side in an effort to escape Gombauld's kisses. "No, please. No." Her raised voice had become imperative. Gombauld relaxed his embrace a little. "Why not?" he said. "I will." With a sudden effort Anne freed herself.
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