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Updated: May 13, 2025
Enid sat in one comfortable basket-chair, Hubert in another, at a yard's distance. Their conversation went on in fragments, interspersed by long pauses filled up by an orchestra of birds in the branches overhead. "I do not remember her name exactly," said Enid. "The Tollemaches were talking about her yesterday; they heard her in town last week.
"What makes you ask all these questions?" said Hubert, as if he had not heard the last. "Who has put Miss West into your head in this way?" He looked annoyed. Enid at once put out a caressing hand. "I did not mean to be too inquisitive, Hubert dear. But the Tollemaches are very musical, and they were talking a great deal about her.
They said they saw you at the concert when she came out some Italian teacher's semi-private concert and they seemed to think that you knew the whole set of people who were there." Mentally Hubert made some uncharitable remarks on the future destiny of the Tollemaches; but he controlled himself so far as to answer coolly "I know several of that set, certainly. I know Miss West a little."
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