Only chirping of grasshoppers echoed softly in the garden of Primrose Hollow. Alice glanced at Di, her features were just a pale patch in the dark, fragrant, slightly damp evening. Suddenly thunder rumbled, and soft raindrops fell on the grass. Without saying a word, Di walked inside, to the livingroom, and Alice followed her, a little worried. With leisurely, efficient movements, Di poured fragrant tea into cups, and after a moment of silence, she took one flowing step and softly embraced Alice, and then said a mischievous twinkle in her eye "I thought something of that sort was in the air, for whenever we've visited Gardiner Hall Dorian has looked as if he had a stomach ache. You probably didn't notice anything, but sometimes, especially when he's nervous, Dorian has similar mannerisms as my brother, the way to avoid direct gaze, and to tap fingers together, small gestures that are usually not noticed, nothing overt. And I do think that, Dorian is so dredfully keen on you, have been for long while. I know you've had a past tendresse that left a strong, lingering mark on you, and you still cherish that memory, and maybe that's why you subconsciously resist Dorian's romantic advances? Doubts are natural, but dear Alice, remember that courting is not the same thing as betrothal, and if you want my advice, I´ll say trust your heart, although that sounded both Victorian and syrupy."

Alice hummed thoughtfully, and said " Insightful, as ever, dear Di. A couple of days ago I had a note from Dorian's Aunt Dorothy. She has invited us both to Gardiner Hall. There is little occasion for the last weekend in August, which is as you know, Dorian's birthday. Dorothy's invitation emphasized an informal and summery occasion. "

Finally Di said quietly, "Well. I'll get some good material for possible new essays, my editor has been hounding me, for some time now. Naturally you can talk to Dorian if you want, and we can enjoy afternoon and early evening at Gardiner Hall, because that place really is perfect in August. All the light that shines through the windows, and blends into interiors, a wash of honey. Although I think it might be an outdoor event, but we'll see soon."

A gust of rain battered the roof, and flowing drops of water stained the windows. Alice rose, stretching gracefully, and lightly she embraced Di, and softly gave a light sisterly kiss to her cheek, and humming Mahler's Ich atmet' einen linden Duft, she slipped upstairs, with fae-like grace.

Slowly, Di raised her hand to her burning cheek. And Di took Walter's letter out of her pocket, and caressed its hard corners, before folding it open.

Dear Diana.

You are always and forever Doss, but I have my reasons, to start this letter with your proper name. The mythological connotations of your name are glowing, and shimmering, because Nemoralia was celebrated in her honor in August. There young women decorated with garlands, and wild flowers, walked carrying torches, to dark hills and glens, and there they joyfully came together. Your letter, it touched me, and when I read it for the first time, I wanted to be out of these trenches, I wanted so much, to sit by your side, perhaps, in the garden of Primrose Hollow, in that shadowy nook where rue runs rampant. I can almost see you there, as flute like song of blackbird shimmers in the dusk, and there is light scent of strong tannic smell of over-brewed tea. Perhaps Golden Alice would sit near, and she would smile upon us, in her light, bright smile, before, with winged, graceful steps, she would embrace first me, and then you, and disappear gracefully in the background, as it is her usual way, and we could look at each other, and let the unspeakable silence speak for itself, and quietly we would whisper the secrets of our hearts to each other, as we often did in the evenings in our childhood.If I hadn't followed Piper's intoxicating call, that vision I just drew would be a reality.

Doss, you've always been almost my twin, my another half, we balance each other. I don't know if I should apologize that it was just my accidental discovery, and my gift to you, that perhaps set you on this path. I can say that the varied, enchanting, and cuttingly painful feelings about which you wrote inspired by that poetry, soarings from sorrow, and trancings of bliss, all airy wanderings, of endless vivid joy, that is to be seen. I feel them too intimately. Then again, you know or have guessed that much, in the days Before, as you have read my verses. Before I left for England, I too had my own encounter with our darkhaired friend. I am sure her advice was well-intentioned, but still take care, perhaps copy certain poems into a notebook that you can carry with you and read when you feel like it. That way no one would question anything. Next time when you are Ingelside, visit my room, there's a book with a blue cover on the bookshelf, I think you might like it.

With all love,

W.

Di closed her eyes as a light humming intoxication filled her, as she still felt Alice's soft arms around her, and the gentle warmth of her body, that so quick, and fleeting moment, and the air smelled of fresh rain, light violet and nutmeg, Alice's fragrance. And Di remembered how, in the splendor of the rose-red room at Gardiner Hall, she had breathed that scent beside her, with Alice resting beside her, and turning, to and fro. Hours had, passed Di had laid awake, and counted Alice's breaths. Then as morning light braided Alice's hair, in glints of gold, it lay in disheveled thick and loose braid, on a pillow, their beauty, and the glow tingled in her heart.

Week later, cautiously, Di watched Alice as she stood in the doorway of Alice's room, and watched with some amusement as the blond girl examined her wardrobe with a critical expression. Di quickly browsed through her friends clothes, and chose one dress, quoting Hardy lightly

I have seen her in gowns the brightest,

Of azure, green, and red,

And in the simplest, whitest,

Muslin from heel to head

But in my remembered passion

For Evermore stands she

In the gown of fading fashion

Alice laughed lightly, as she accepted flowing dress hanging on the hanger, saying in somewhat coy manner, and with flashing eyes, "this choice of yours is not of fading fashion, darling Di of all Di´s." And Alice hung a fashionable pale high-collared jade-green dress on the door of her wardrobe. Di smiled warmly, and said, "as little Rilla once said, it's easier to behave well when you have pretty clothes on, and I've also noticed myself that Spider can be right, sometimes, despite her way of iltalics, which are extremely amusing, but I have also sometimes noticed the same for myself, clothes help, but not always."

A light shadow flickered across Alice's face, and for a moment it seemed as if she were deep in thought, but then Alice raised her head and said a little sharply, glancing at her wardrobe, and at the white embroidered dress hanging there, "let's go downstairs, I've got a few crafts to do and I want to get them done before the potential and questionable amusements at Gardiner Hall." And evening passed in gentle merriment, as Alice ended up making maple caramels, and the girls of Primrose Hollow were eating them with gusto, with their tea, and Faith declared in her vibrant manner, "These almost beat Mother Rosemary's. Next time you write to my sister, be sure to include this recipe, for I am sure Una and especially Bruce is going to love these. It does take our weekly sugar allowance, but the sacrifice was worth it."

One quiet evening, Alice was sitting at her desk, collecting her thoughts. On the table was a pile of letters tied with light blue ribbon, it contained Una Meredith's letters to Alice. Those letters were like Una herself, unassuming, but quietly glowing, especially when the correspondence concerned literature or music, which was about half the letters that bounced between Primrose Hollow and Glen's Manse. Alice had opened up about Redmond's hecticness, even in summerseasons, and the musical esoterica she unearthed from the bottom of the dusty bookshelves of the Redmond Music Society, and Una countered that with light sense of irony that hit unexpectedly especially on social grievances, related to Christian charity, and Red Cross meetings, and neighboring gossip of local Ladies Aid, and constant push and pull between Elliot and the Drews, or Kirks. Una had very carefully expressed her interest in Walter's Mahler sheet music when Alice had written that she was keeping them for him, but only until he would return, to reclaim them.

Dear Alice, I don't know anything about new German music, except the old familiar classics, Bach, Beethoven and the beloved Mozart, but if it's not too much trouble for you, I'd like to look at those notes, because as you may know, Walter has been playing with Rosemary, for years, and from your description, that Mahler is quite a unique case, temporality and deep glowing feeling in different registers with varying themes of life, sorrow, yearing, and loss. Bruce ran up to me, just now, and he insists that I send to you from him his third best embrace,( the best embrace goes to Rosemary and the second usually goes to me, so you can gather from this that you're favored by Bruce.)for the blonde fairy. He also wants to inquire about your favorite jam. It's important for Bruce to know everyone's favorite jams, maybe because they're important to him, but I personally think he's developing some kind of category to rate people based on their taste in jam.

Write, when you have time, because, I know that the end of August is always busy both there and here.

with loving regards

U.C.M.

Soft, flickering light of the oil lamp shimmered in the room, and a few moths fluttered charmed by the flame, the light beats of their wings fluttering in the room. In front of Alice was a draft of a letter to Dorian, because the day after tomorrow would be the last weekend of August.

Thoughtfully Alice looked at the beautiful arrangement of reddish roses on her table, as she caressed half-opened petals, they had come earlier in the day, and Nan had almost danced when she saw the roses, for Nan, as Di amusedly said to Alice, "my dear twin thinks all roses, but especially those of a reddish hue, are the height of romance." Alice was bending her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and she thought of the words of Walter's letter, the direct and plain request to be honest. Alice closed her eyes, and rubbed her slightly aching temples, and restlessly, without thinking too much, Alice began to write broken, light lines, slowly the pages filled up, and at last, weary, Alice folded the pages, and dropped into the luring arms of Morpheus.

Di walked past Alice's room, and noticed that the blond girl was resting on her bed, without any covers, Di covered Alice with a striped pleated blanket, and blowing out the oil lamp, Di carefully closed the door.

It was the eve of Dorian's 23rd birthday.

Gardiner Hall was filled with a hushed bustle, for morrow's occasion was being busily arranged. Adeline was in her element, her subtle style and sure taste was evident in everywhere. A couple of hours earlier, some servants had carried a covered package out of the attic, and it was now leaning against the doorway. This occasion would be intimate and private, as almost all of Dorian's acquaintances from private schools were either at the front or buried somewhere in France.

Several times during the last few days Dorothy had looked at Dorian as if she had some pleasant secret up her sleeve, and she had smiled contentedly, but had not consented to tell what she had arranged, but had waved her hand elegantly and playfully said "Go back to Perennial's office, everything is under control here." So Dorian had only smiled, and done, as Dorothy had asked, and enjoyed hours of relative peacefulness, and hectic activity.

By sudden impulse Dorian made his way to his father's study, as he was away in a meeting of some sort in Kingsport at his club. A soft, hazy patch of light glowed in the royal blue velvet curtains, and Dorian, sat down in a soft cognac-colored armchair, and looked around with interested eyes. This room had always been a sort of sanctuary, for things that were completely foreign to Dorian own world. There were countless documents in folders, bills, various international agreements, in the narrow cherry colored shelfs, and subtle scent of quiet and forcefull influence, it mingled to the scent of hairoil, spicy cologne with a hint of orange blossom, cigars and brandy, as there were small sidetable with tumbler and glasses, on a small tray. This was very masculine room, and Dorian felt a little troubled, in the midst of all this clean-lined efficiency, with only a few romantic details, in the flowing Art Deco style, there were flower-patterned delicate lamps, one of which was located on the desk, a striking forest nymph held a flowering branch with trillium petals forming the lamp.

With quiet steps, Thompson arrived at the door, and announced in his dry style, "Miss Adeline is waiting for you in the library, young Mr. Gardiner, and it seems she has something relatively important to say, or so I concluded." Curious, Dorian rose, and said as he passed, "I haven't had any messages, or letters in the afternoon post?" Thompson's gray eyes, were very kind and serious, as he shook his slightly graying hair, and said "Just usual congratulations, for tomorrow. Unfortunately, nothing has come from Miss Parker, but Mr. Blythe sent a sonnet and a little note from the frontlines, and I took the liberty of giving it to you now, because I suppose you´ll need some cheering up before seeing Miss Adeline."

Dorian smiled lightly at Thompson and with eager eyes read Walter´s note, it was a frayed, torn piece of paper, clearly from some notebook, perhaps his or someone else's, for on the other side of the paper was written in an unknown handwriting, poetic quotation in French that seemed distantly familiar to Dorian.

Happy birthday friend of my heart.

Here's a little something to celebrate your day, as I was inspired by reminiscing about our adventures together.

W

Walter's sonnet, its pacing and rhythm were impeccable, and his unexpected humor was in full bloom, and its final climax was surprising in all its temporality.

Soon Dorian resignedly sat in the striped, uncomfortable armchair, and waited as the tea set was brought steaming to the small table. Adeline smiled at him and crooned in her cool tone, which always gave him chills. "Dearest Dorian, you've been so unhappy lately that I thought I'd have a little chat with you to put things into perspective. Tomorrow you´ll turn 23. I won't meddle in your affairs, but I have noticed that for the last few weeks you have been coming home late. Remember that there is a right time and place for a certain kind of behavior." Dorian listened in slight astonishment to his aunt's cool explanation, and at last he burst into a hearty laughter and with difficulty he managed to say "Adeline, I have only been up late at Perennial´s premises, with my comrades, as all of us are toiling hard for the war effort. In a couple of weeks, maybe in the middle of September, new issue will appear, and I have planned almost everything in it, and written, editorial, and a few columns, and Di Blythe has been most helpful with her insights, and remarks. Literary talent really runs in that family almost like the port wine we drink here."

Adeline's dark blue eyes flashed, and she straightened her posture and sniffed and rose with graceful movements and said, "Dorian, I suggest you look at the photographs of dear Royal´s desk, at some point, but now I must go and discuss a few more details with Dorothy, for tomorrow."

Curious, Dorian let out a light sigh and walked back into Royal's study. It bathed in the soft early evening light, and on the table, almost buried in the papers, were two small miniatures in side-by-side frames. Dorian held out his hand, and looked at one of them for a time.

In the first one there was slender unknown, but slightly familiar looking woman in an old-fashioned cream ballroom dress, embroidered, with rosebuds, her voluminous hair in a bun, a sprig of Lily of the Valley in those gleaming tresses. There was a light shadow on the woman's face, although she seemed vibrant, Dorian got the impression that she was not joyful, for there was a look in her eyes that cut Dorian's heart, a deep inward uneasiness, as if she stood in the right place, but in wrong company, behind her was Redmond's main building, and judging by the blossoming trees, it was the Spring Ball.

Dorian recognized the second photograph at once, but this was an earlier version than the large elaborate oil painting that had hung for years on the landing of the grand staircase before Adeline had carried it away. Dorian had last seen it when he was around ten, he lightly touched woman's face with his fingertip, and whispered "I will soon be 23 years old, and I hope you are proud of me." Shadows fluttered across the face of the woman in the photo, she seemed to be smiling.

Piano playing echoed from the library, there Adeline played, a little harshly through something light and airy, which should sound more effortless, and with slow halting, tired steps, sometimes stopping, and leaning on his canes, Dorian walked back to his own room, in this large house built in memory of the woman in the photograph.

Quite near the library of the Redmond Musical Society, there was a private house, whose paneled rooms were available for rent to various organizations. Royal Gardiner walked with impatient steps in the oak-paneled room of his club, and his acquaintance said lightly, "Well Gardiner, when we last saw each other, I left you in Paris, a little weary from negotiations and long nights, and now a few months later, you are energetic, as if the fatigue of war is not weighed upon you. Johnston said, he saw you last week going into that elaborate flowershop, near mainstreet. There's only one reason, why we buy either flowers or jewelry."

Royal glanced half-irritably at Robert, for he was famous for his intransigence, whether it was work contracts or lighter pleasures. Many times, a few years before war, Royal had followed in Robert's footsteps to all kinds of half-shaded places, and in glittering opera houses, where eternal Verdi or Bizet played. Royal said calmly, "Robert, old chap, why do you think those flowers weren't for my sisters, who might be having birthday?"

Robert chuckled. "You're forgetting that my wife knows both of your sisters, so I know exactly your sisters birthdays, so who is she?" "Well, if you really want to know. I didn't buy flowers. I was talking about future flower order, because Dorian's birthday is tomorrow," Royal remarked, in his best quelling style. Robert, smirked in disbelief, and said "Roy, your sisters take care of almost everything related to Dorian, and you've already got Dorian a membership here, he's never seen here, because your son is a bookworm, he's more comfortable in the library, than playing billiard, or anykind of games. In our circles almost everything is quite allowed, so that kind of mystique is altogether infuriating arrogance, but on the other hand, you've always kept your cards hidden. However, give Dorian my best regards, and the same to Dorothy."

With a light nod, Robert left, waving his light scarf. Impatiently Royal poured himself another little brandy, and set the glass down untouched on the table, and then with swift steps Royal walked out of the apartment, and wandering through scented night of Kingsport, the years seemed to pass so quickly, and yet so slowly, and at last weary, in the morning hours, he arrived at Gardiner Hall.

The weather of the afternoon was excellent, mild and clear, and the air was balmy, without a little of the normal acridity and Gardiner Hall glimmered in the sweeping sunshine. Dorothy Gardiner came to meet Alice and Di, in the front lawn, she was dressed in a burnt orange, as that was one of her favorite shades, energetic and sincere as always, she waved her hand lightly around and said "I am extremely happy and delighted that you both were able to attend. Dorian is here somewhere, go and surprise him,"with a light smile Dorothy turned and disappeared into the crowd, that were mingling in the area. There were colorful groups of people, with umbrellas and variety of gowns were walking around estate, like free butterflies. White tables and hammocks were sprinkled here and there, in the abundant grass, which was still shimmering green.

While walking on the wide lawns of Gardiner Hall, Alice happened to meet Walter's former professor, Milne. He was sitting on the grass, in a wrinkled suit, with a glass of whiskey in his hand, and a little worried Alice inquired, "Professor Milne, would you like a sandwich?"

The professor stood up and smiled, mechanically, but it was as if his soul had disappeared. The man in front of Alice was nothing more than a shell. In slow voice he said "Thank you, no Miss Parker. You know, my boys have gone where I can't follow them, they followed their convictions, as did Walter Blythe, who I hope is safe for the time being, from this mess of blood and horror which is this total war that is being danced in Europe, even at this moment." And after that unsettled proclamation Professor Milne wandered away, and he paused a few times, to look at the silhouette of Gardiner Hall.

Alice noticed that Thompson was carefully watching the professor, and he spoke to him in a low soothing voice, and soon the Gardiners' Ford pulled into the yard, and Thompson helped the professor into the car, and they drove off, presumably to the professor's home.

Under a light canopy, there was a long buffet table. On the other side of the table there was champagne in freezing cold containers. And a pot of tea, and sandwiches in silver tray. A large vase contained various flowers, including asters. Di smiled wistfully at the sight of the asters, and Alice heard her whisper, "Oh, how fitting that here is Goodbye Summers, that was Walter's childhood name, for those flowers."

In a shadowy corner in small reddish dias were a large oil painting. Di stopped before it thoughtfully, and inquired of Alice, "Do you happen to know who this might be?" The only answer was silence, and Di glanced questioningly at Alice, her features were pale, and she looked at the painting, as if bewitched, and finally, Alice whispered, "Dorian's mother, for I recognize pearls. It's only natural that even some memory of Dorian's mother is displayed on her son's birthday." Dorian's late mother posed, in a simple mangolian white silk dress, her thick reddish-blonde hair were half parted, and flowingly open, and around her neck were triple baroque pearls. The style of painting deliberately imitated Winterhalter's famous "intimate" portraits. And Di looked curiously at the painting, and only now did she notice how much Dorian resembled his mother outwardly. Dorian was almost a masculine version of his mother, except with the Gardiners' dark hair, but the look of the painting was inviting, and Dorian generally looked bored and distant, except when something stirred his emotions, then traces of the same gentle lightness that seemed to glow from the painting could be found, but those were rare occurances.

Suddenly, Adeline's voice was heard from behind them, "Good afternoon, Misses Blythe and Parker. It's a little tradition in our family, that painting is only displayed on very rare occasions. You may have noticed that there are no pictures of Valentine displayed at least in public, it was my decision. It's better to just focus on living in the present than to be consumed by nostalgia for the past. Dorian was last in the library a few moments ago, if you're looking for him."

And in her rustling dark blue silk, Adeline nodded, to Di and Alice, and looked at them appraisingly, one long glance, and then she rustled away, exclaiming to someone in a carrying tone, "I hope the trip wasn't too taxing. It's of the utmost importance that we try our best for the war effort, especially when the latest my brother's connections of the War office, say that soon Canadians may be sent to the bloody fields of the Somme."

After hearing Adelines´ careless words, Alice noted that Di´ face were extremely pale, and she rushed after Adeline, in a flash of pale blue muslin, digging out her notebook from her small bag, in vain effort to gain more information, than probable careless rumour or heresay.

Alice surveyed the slightly rolling landscape bathed in soft light before her, and sat down in a light wicker chair, and ate a few sandwiches, for she did not quite want to meet anyone yet.

And then, as the shadows slowly lengthened, Thompson came to Alice's corner, and said gently, "I know Mr. Dorian has longed for your company, I took him to the greenhouse, for a new variety of orchids has just opened there to-day, go that way, and you'll get there easily, by a short cut." Thompson strode away with quick steps. Alice shook loose hems of her green dress and noticed a tired looking Royal Gardiner was walking nearby he seemed to be talking to some man in uniform. Alice quickly walked in the direction Thompson pointed, and thought that Di might get material for her new essay after all, if information that wasn't publicly available was actually shared at Dorian's birthday.

Soon, in front of Alice, was the greenhouse, in all its shimmering art deco beauty, it was like a small piece of translucent greenish ice, pierced by intricate wrought iron frames. Alice opened the door and was assaulted by a soft tropical heat. Dorian sat on a branched bench in the center aisle, looking at a very beautiful orchid, there was a faint scent of vanilla in the air.

Alice's steps rustled on the sanded path, and Dorian said without turning, "Adeline, please, I just want to be in peace, right now, for a few more moments." Alice looked at Dorian, he seemed somehow more serious than before, as if he had found his own purpose. Taking a deep breath, Alice said softly, "Happy birthday Dorian."

The effect of Alice's words was obvious, Dorian spun around, his face pale, and he looked at Alice, in the greenhouse's dimness, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and finally, Alice said quietly, "I thought for a long time whether to come here, when I received your aunt Dorothy's invitation, but here I´am now. "

Dorian held out his slightly trembling hands, and Alice walked and sat down by Dorian's side, and folding her hands in her lap, took a thick letter from her little bag, saying, "I can, at present, offer you nothing but my sincere friendship, as before. This letter explains part of the reason for that. I'm not rejecting you, and I'm flattered by your request, but I ask that you read it properly and with time, and I wanted to say thank you for the absolutely lovely roses."

Dorian flipped the thick letter distractedly around, and said in abstracted tone, "What roses, I haven't sent you any roses, only orchids, and that was a while ago, in early May. Alice you don't need to bare your soul to me. I've already decided not to read this letter. It's enough for me that we continue as friends for the time being, we're in no rush."Alice said gently, "Dorian, go inside to Gardiner Hall, for you must expected already, I will be in soon." Dorian nodded, and slowly his footsteps died away, behind the honeysuckle and larch trees that lined the road.

With graceful and quick steps Alice walked into the hall of Gardiner Hall. Dorothy smiled and said"Alice, in the library, there's going to be in a half hour, some musical performance, of Red Cross representative from some small town recommended by Adeline's semi-acquaintance. " Alice was walking aimlessly down the corridors of Gardiner Hall, there were people chatting in different rooms, and Di could be seen sitting in one of the armchairs, actively writing, something, and when she happened to look up, Alice noticed a soft introverted look in Di's eyes, which usually meant an inspiring creative process, so shaking her head, and smiling gently, Alice slipped away, and let Di write in peace.

Alice stopped by the half-open window, in one room, and watched as the sky slowly darkened. Suddenly around Alice there was a sweet scent of orange blossom, and something spicy, and in a daze she turned, and in the doorway stood Royal Gardiner, only a dark shadow, illuminated from the light coming from the hallway.

Something that might have been amusement flashed lightly on Royal Gardiner's face and he said in slowly caressing manner "I have often thought back to our last meeting, it was memorable. It's been a long time since April, and I must say that although you look quite charming in that green dress of yours, my darling, like some golden-haired and enchanting mermaid who longs for human touch. I liked the last dress better, all that white damp cotton and embroidery, and the endless rain, and curving, roads, and dripping, branches. Tell me, did you like my flowers?"

Alice, looked silently at Royal Gardiner, and remembered all the rose, and orchid bouquets, and gradations that had come to Primrose Hollow during the spring and late summer, and which she had supposed had come from Dorian, and now it turned out that they had not, at least not all of them. Alice, turned, and walked away, but not fast enough, for she heard Royal's soft whisper,"If I happen to travel to France, I'll bring you a perfume from there, something light and airy fresh with a light powdery scent. " Alice stopped, and said with a chilling calm, "I am not available for purchase."

Lightly amused laughter echoed through the room, and Royal Gardiner said with a deceptively steely gentleness, "My dear, all people are. It's just a matter of perspective. For some, information, for others, bribes, and for some, imports straight from Paris, or a dead soldier's last letter, to a family, or perhaps a loved one. A letter , which has been brought through at the cost of lines, great sacrifices and loss of men."

Alice shuddered, at the cynical words, and after a moment's silence said, "How can you mock the Allied cause, our cause like that. Don't you believe in anything?"

From the darkness came a soft voice, of Gardiner, "I may be a cynic, but I'm also a realist. I see the world for what it really is, because people are beasts, we've all seen that in the last two years. I've once believed in rose gardens, and dreams, but I don't anymore. There's something confessional and intimate about the darkness and this in-between space we're in, while everyone else is celebrating below. I find that I'm in a very confessional mood, so, I suggest, my dear, that you run along now, and leave me alone, for I came here on purpose, and didn't expect to meet anyone, least of all you, especially today."

Feeling utterly drained at the sudden revelation and meeting of Royal Gardiner, in such a strange mood, Alice leaned against door frame and looked at the vast library there was a small group of people, and near the abundant yucca tree, in small sofa, Alice noticed that Dorian seemed to be talking rather eagerly to a familiar-looking blonde woman, who was dressed in a fashionable bright red dress, and a similar-colored slightly flowing hat with a peacock feather.

Di´s astonished face were seen in the crowd, and then the blonde woman turned, and Alice's world seemed to turn upside down, at the same moment, Adeline Gardiner's voice came clear, over the light bustle, "Now dear Irene is performing for us, could someone find right notes?" And when the first chords of the piano echoed through the room, Alice's numbness ceased, and she fled out of Gardiner Hall, for the only thing she saw was Dorian's pleased expression, and joyfull visage, as Irene began that familiar old favorite, Ivor Novello's song, which everyone so often hummed everywhere.

And then month turned.

Cold wind ruffled the slightly reddish wild vines, and dark slow-moving clouds glowed in the sky, and all the soft caressing warmth that had been the norm just a couple of days before was now gone. And in early September the news offically came, that Canadians would be indeed sent to the Somme front, and in Primrose Hollow the gnawing fear glowed, as translucent as the mist rising from Walter's favorite swan pond, in the mornings, and in compline time, there Alice and Di sat now often side by side. Alice's rosary were these days was never far away, and sometimes, glancing at nimble movements of Alice's fingers, as the quiet hours rolled by, Di sometimes asked, "Does that help at all?" And Alice replied, "A little."