CHAPTER XXVWhat was pleasant—what was pleasant—thought the awakening Hilary, turning and smiling sleepily. Oh, yes—oh, yes, she remembered it all, and with the flood of recollection, a flood of brilliant colour suffused her.
She got up in that dreamy, mystic state known only to the woman in love. Her bath, her powders and perfumes, were all a sort of happy rite this morning, because a man had found her lovely. She looked at Alice, hanging the black-and-silver gown away in its sheet, and she could have kissed the robe that had shared with her this wonderful hour.
The future concerned Hilary not at all; she knew that she would hear from Konrad this morning. Her whole existence was centred upon the moment when flowers, a note, or even the man himself should arrive.
She had been out so late
