1<br > Hendaye， 6th April， 1926<br >Everything s changing so fast， she said. Isn t it stunning to<br >wake up every morning and feel that the whole world s branil-<br >aew again， a present waiting for you to unwrap it? <br > For emphasis she stabbed her foot-long cigarette holder<br >towards the Pyrenees， to declare them part of the present，<br >with the snow-glitter along the peaks a little tinsel to add<br >glamour to the gift.<br > It s all yours， he s~id， ~generously including in his gesture not<br >only the mountains but the nearer landscape， and the cubist<br >spillage of roofs down the slope below the terrace and the two<br >crones in black creaking up a cobbled alley， and nearer still the<br >elderly three-piece band nobly attempting a Charleston while<br >their souls still pined for the Vienna Woods， and even the<br >braying group of young French rich， already into their third<br >cocktail at half past three.<br > She threw back her head and laughed like a boy. Her teeth<br >gshed like the sudden glimpse of brilliance along the wing-front<br >of a White Admiral when it snaps its wings open and shut again.<br >He felt woozy with love for her. Three days ago， when he had<br >first met her， she had seemed to be just the kind of pretty flibber-<br >tigibbet you would expect Bertie Panhard to fill his villa with for<br >Easter. Then chance had paired them in the foursomes against<br >the great Joyce Mallahide and Bertie himself--Mrs. Mallahide<br > ageing now but implacably steady， and Bertie wild with his<br >drives but deadly with his putter. Incredibly the match had gone<br > to the twentieth， with side-bets accumulating which would bite<br > deep into next quarter s allowance. Then she had sliced her<br > 7<br >