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Updated: May 19, 2025
Marston slide past in her soft slippers with her characteristic walk, rather like skating. Hazel never dreamt that he had taken his shoes off for her sake. The moon, riding clear of cloud, flung the shadow of Edward's primroses on the bed a large round posy like a Christmas-pudding with outstanding leaves and flowers clearly defined, all very black on the counterpane. Undern seemed very far off.
And you'll have a drink of something cool. Now what shall it be? 'Sherry, he said, with his eyes on Hazel's. 'I misdoubt if there's any of the Christmas-pudding bottle left, but I'll go and see, she said, all in a flutter. How tragic a thing for her, who prided herself on her housewifery, to have no sherry when it was asked for! Her steps died away down the cellar stairs.
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