CHAPTER 18At quarter past seven Jonas, clad, suitably he hoped, in a freshly laundered white linen suit, closed his front door behind him and went along the brick path under the rose-covered trellised arch toward the gate, to get his car to go to Miss Olive’s to pick up Mrs. Gordon, or was it Mrs. Franklin, Grymes nee Philippa Van Holt. As he rounded the mass of great old box on the other side of the rose trellis he half-stopped, and continued on.
She was coming home. She and Jenny were coming through the iron gate into the Court. He scarcely saw Jenny, except as a dark foil for the softly golden sheen of the girl beside her. They were laughing at something, and as Jonas readjusted his momentarily dazzled and enchanted vision, he saw they were laughing because Jenny was spilling water out
