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"
"Why do you think so?"
"I am sure you were."
He did not either acknowledge or deny it.
"He has never been to see my garden," he said.
"No."
"He ought to come."
"I have told him so."
"Ah? Is he coming?"
"I don't think so."
"Persuade him to. I have a pride in my garden--oh, you have no idea what
a pride! Any neglect of it, any indifference about it rasps me, plays
upon the raw nerve each one of us possesses."
He spoke smilingly. She did not know what he was feeling, whether the
remote thinker or the imp within him was at work or play.
"I doubt if he is a man to be easily persuaded," she said.
"Perhaps not--persuade him."
After a moment Domini said:
"I wonder whether you recognise that there are obstacles which the human
will can't negotiate?"
"I could scarcely live where I do without recognising that the grains of
sand are often driven by the wind. But when there is no wind!"
"They lie still?"
"And are the desert. I want to have a strange experience."
"What?"
"A _fete_ in my garden."
"A fantasia?"
"Something far more banal. A lunch party, a _dejeuner_.


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