He made his speech a little elaborately. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. Seeing her improved mood, he had offered the Latin reading lesson strategically, knowing it would surprise her that he considered her capable. Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. As her belly swelled, so did he. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes.
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