It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. “That’s HIM,” said Ann Veronica, in sound, idiomatic English. Her mother…. Then he threw the letter at me. Very well. I shall borrow it and apply it to you, Hilary. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose.
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