A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. ” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. Places, I found, were daily given away, And yet no friendly gazette mentioned Gay. When she awoke she felt as if she were adrift on a soft cloud through a golden sky.
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