She indicated the captain who had retired behind the sofa. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. “Not a bit of it. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds.
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