I felt that I could come down exactly
where I wanted. It was fascinating. I had perfect power, Stacey."
And throwing her neck back, she closed her eyes again. The sunlight
streamed in on her between the half-drawn curtains.
The queerest impulse to put out a hand and stroke that full white throat
shot through the maid's mind.
"These flying machines are stupid," murmured Barbara; "the pleasure's in
one's body---wings!"
"I can see Lady Casterley in the garden."
Barbara sprang out of bed. Close by the statue of Diana Lady Casterley
was standing, gazing down at some flowers, a tiny, grey figure. Barbara
sighed. With her, in her dream, had been another buzzard hawk, and she
was filled with a sort of surprise, and queer pleasure that ran down her
in little shivers while she bathed and dressed.
In her haste she took no hat; and still busy with the fastening of her
linen frock, hurried down the stairs and Georgian corridor, towards the
garden. At the end of it she almost ran into the arms of Courtier.
Awakening early this morning, he had begun first thinking of Audrey
Noel, threatened by scandal; then of his yesterday's companion, that
glorious young creature, whose image had so gripped and taken possession
of him. In the pleasure of this memory he had steeped himself. She was
youth itself! That perfect thing, a young girl without callowness.
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