He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. 1. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions.
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