All that was needed to complete the simile was that the girl should burst into song. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. It was dawn: Cathy would soon be off to the restaurant and Larry off to paint a house. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall.
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