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getting sunstroke here；〃 he said； and got up。
Mr。 Scogan followed his example； and they walked slowly away down
the narrow path； brushing the blue lavender flowers in their passage。
Denis pulled a sprig of lavender and sniffed at it； then some dark leaves of
rosemary that smelt like incense in a cavernous church。 They passed a
bed of opium poppies； dispetaled now； the round； ripe seedheads were
brown and drylike Polynesian trophies； Denis thought； severed heads
stuck on poles。 He liked the fancy enough to impart it to Mr。 Scogan。
〃Like Polynesian trophies。。。〃 Uttered aloud； the fancy seemed less
charming and significant than it did when it first occurred to him。
There was a silence； and in a growing wave of sound the whir of the
reaping machines swelled up from the fields beyond the garden and then
receded into a remoter hum。
〃It is satisfactory to think；〃 said Mr。 Scogan； as they strolled slowly
onward； 〃that a multitude of people are toiling in the harvest fields in
order that we may talk of Polynesia。 Like every other good thing in this
world； leisure and culture have to be paid for。 Fortunately； however； it is
not the leisured and the cultured who have to pay。 Let us be duly
thankful for that； my dear Denisduly thankful；〃 he repeated； and knocked
the ashes out of his pipe。
Denis was not listening。 He had suddenly remembered Anne。 She
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was with Gombauldalone with him in his studio。 It was an intolerable
thought。
〃Shall we go and pay a call on Gombauld？〃 he suggested carelessly。
It would be amusing to see what he's doing now。〃
He laughed inwardly to think how furious Gombauld would be when
he saw them arriving。
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CHAPTER XXIII。
Gombauld was by no means so furious at their apparition as Denis had
hoped and expected he would be。 Indeed； he was rather pleased than
annoyed when the two faces； one brown and pointed； the other round and
pale； appeared in the frame of the open door。 The energy born of his
restless irritation was dying within him； returning to its emotional
elements。 A moment more and he would have been losing his temper
againand Anne would be keeping hers； infuriatingly。 Yes； he was
positively glad to see them。
〃Come in； come in；〃 he called out hospitably。
Followed by Mr。 Scogan； Denis climbed the little ladder and stepped
over the threshold。 He looked suspiciously from Gombauld to his sitter；
and could learn nothing from the expression of their faces except that they
both seemed pleased to see the visitors。 Were they really glad； or were
they cunningly simulating gladness？ He wondered。
Mr。 Scogan； meanwhile； was looking at the portrait。
〃Excellent；〃 he said approvingly； 〃excellent。 Almost too true to
character； if that is possible； yes； positively too true。 But I'm surprised to
find you putting in all this psychology business。〃 He pointed to the face；
and with his extended finger followed the slack curves of the painted
figure。 〃I thought you were one of the fellows who went in exclusively
for balanced masses and impinging planes。〃
Gombauld laughed。 〃This is a little infidelity；〃 he said。
〃I'm sorry；〃 said Mr。 Scogan。 〃I for one； without ever having had the
slightest appreciation of painting； have always taken particular pleasure in
Cubismus。 I like to see pictures from which nature has been completely
banished； pictures which are exclusively the product of the human mind。
They give me the same pleasure as I derive from a good piece of reasoning
or a mathematical problem or an achievement of engineering。 Nature； or
anything that reminds me of nature； disturbs me； it is too large； too
complicated； above all too utterly pointless and incomprehensible。 I am
at home with the works of man； if I choose to set my mind to it； I can
understand anything that any man has made or thought。 That is why I
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always travel by Tube； never by bus if I can possibly help it。 For；
travelling by bus； one can't avoid seeing； even in London； a few stray
works of God the sky； for example； an occasional tree； the flowers in the
window…boxes。 But travel by Tube and you see nothing but the works of
maniron riveted into geometrical forms； straight lines of concrete；
patterned expanses of tiles。 All is human and the product of friendly and
comprehensible minds。 All philosophies and all religionswhat are they
but spiritual Tubes bored through the universe！ Through these narrow
tunnels； where all is recognisably human； one travels comfortable and
secure； contriving to forget that all round and below and above them
stretches the blind mass of earth； endless and unexplored。 Yes； give me
the Tube and Cubismus every time； give me ideas； so snug and neat and
simple and well made。 And preserve me from nature； preserve me from
all that's inhumanly large and complicated and obscure。 I haven't the
courage； and； above all； I haven't the time to start wandering in that
labyrinth。〃
While Mr。 Scogan was discoursing； Denis had crossed over to the
farther side of the little square chamber； where Anne was sitting； still in
her graceful； lazy pose； on the low chair。
〃Well？〃 he demanded； looking at her almost fiercely。 What was he
asking of her？ He hardly knew himself。
Anne looked up at him； and for answer echoed his 〃Well？〃 in another；
a laughing key。
Denis had nothing more； at the moment； to say。 Two or three
canvases stood in the corner behind Anne's chair； their faces turned to the
wall。 He pulled them out and began to look at the paintings。
〃May I see too？〃 Anne requested。
He stood them in a row against the wall。 Anne had to turn round in
her chair to look at them。 There was the big canvas of the man fallen
from the horse； there was a painting of flowers； there was a small
landscape。 His hands on the back of the chair； Denis leaned over her。
From behind the easel at the other side of the room Mr。 Scogan was
talking away。 For a long time they looked at the pictures； saying nothing；
or； rather； Anne looked at the pictures； while Denis； for the most part；
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looked at Anne。
〃I like the man and the horse； don't you？〃 she said at last； looking up
with an inquiring smile。
Denis nodded； and then in a queer； strangled voice； as though it had
cost him a great effort to utter the words； he said； 〃I love you。〃
It was a remark which Anne had heard a good many times before and
mostly heard with equanimity。 But on this occasionperhaps because
they had come so unexpectedly ； perhaps for some other reasonthe words
provoked in her a certain surprised commotion。
〃My poor Denis；〃 she managed to say； with a laugh； but she was
blushing as she spoke。
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CHAPTER XXIV。
It was noon。 Denis； descending from his chamber； where he had been
making an unsuccessful effort to write something about nothing in
particular； found the drawing…room deserted。 He was about to go out into
the garden when his eye fell on a familiar but mysterious objectthe large
red notebook in which he had so often seen Jenny quietly and busily
scribbling。 She