She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. This is your moment. Do you remember when we went right away, Nigel, and forgot everything? We went down the river past Veraz, and the larks were singing all over those deep brown fields, and the river further on wound its way like a coil of silver across the rich meadowland, and along the hillside vineyards. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. All sorts of considerations come in. Always! I don’t believe there is any strong natural affection at all between parents and growing-up children.
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