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Updated: June 8, 2025
You oughtn't to have come back from Agaye." "I never do what I ought, Mary." She remembered how beautiful and strong he used to be, when he danced and when he played tennis, and when he walked up and down the hills. His beauty and his strength had never moved her to anything but a happy, tranquil admiration. She wondered, "Was that my fault, or his? If I'd cared should I have minded?
A pink and white house on the terrace of a hill. House and hill blazing out sunshine. Agaye. Agaye. Pottering about his garden at Agaye. He was happy there. "Well, you can get away. To Agaye." "Not as much as I should like. My wife can't stand more than six weeks of it." "So that you aren't really happy at Agaye.... I thought I was the only person who felt like that.
They would pass, in the train, through Dijon, Avignon, Toulon and Cannes, then back to Agaye. She had no idea what it would be like. Only the sounds, Agaye, rose up out of the other sounds, like a song, a slender foreign song, bright and clear, that you could sing without knowing what it meant.
Sutcliffe. Mrs. Sutcliffe didn't count; she wouldn't do anything at Agaye, she would just trail about in the background, kind and smiling, in a shawl. She might almost as well not be there. The happiness was too great. She could not possibly have given it up. She went on stitching. Mamma went on stitching. Catty brought the lamp in. Then Roddy's telegram came. From Queenstown. "Been ill.
Really unrestrained emotion that forces its way through and breaks down your intellectual defences and saturates you with itself it hasn't any words.... It hasn't any words; or very few." The mown fields over there, below Greffington Edge, were bleached with the sun: the grey cliffs quivered in the hot yellow light. "It might be somewhere in the South of France." "Not Agaye." "No. Not Agaye.
There was a sort of rhythm in the blackness that caught you and took you into its peace. When the thing stopped you could almost hear the click. She stood up. Her white room was grey. Across the window the shoulder of the hill had darkened. Out there the night crouched, breathing like an immense, quiet animal. She had a sense of exquisite security and clarity and joy. She was not going to Agaye.
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