They stood on the bridge and looked at the water and the dark masses of
the houses on the Latin side, with the twin towers of Notre Dame rising
dimly behind them. Ferdinand thought of the Thames at night, with the
barges gliding slowly down, and the twinkling of the lights along the
Embankment.
'It must be a little like that in Holland,' she said, 'but without the
lights and with greater stillness.'
'When do you start?'
She had been making preparations for spending the summer in a little
village near Amsterdam, to paint.
'I can't go now,' cried Valentia. 'Corrie Sayles is going home, and
there's no one else I can go with. And I can't go alone. Where are you
going?'
'I? I have no plans.... I never make plans.'