Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. And the change, the change of attitude! The way all the old clingingness has been thrown aside is amazing. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. Anyhow, he did not sentimentalize her. "Hell's curses!" roared Jonathan. “You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment.
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