’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. But he was not a father one could make much of. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object.
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