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did not wish to lose the other; she had come closer to her adoptive brother over the past ten years, as Magnus had not; “poor Lily’s” defensive psychology seemed quite clear to her sister-in-law.
    “Mark is so interesting,” Julia said, “and I hardly feel that I know him. Magnus scarcely let him in the house. He used to telephone me sometimes and we’d have these long, sweet conversations. He’s probably the only man I’ve flirted with since I married Magnus.”
    “He would be,” said Lily. “Let me give you these presents. I’m sorry I haven’t more to welcome you into your new house, but it’s on such short notice. First, here’s a lovely big book full of pictures, and it’s all about your new neighborhood.” She held the big volume before Julia’s eyes:
The Royal Borough of Kensington
, by Eda Rolph. “Full of astonishing tales. Haven’t read the book in years. The other present is some of these flowers.” She waved her hand at the small, vibrant garden growing in boxes at the end of her terrace.
    “Oh, I can’t let you cut these beautiful flowers,” said Julia, who disliked all cut flowers. “That would be a terrible crime. You can’t cut them for me.”
    “But I can,” said Lily, bending down and beginning to snip off nearly a dozen flowers. “Some tulips, some of these beautiful begonias, some of my favorites here, these monstrous pinks, and a few more of everything else. Now. Takethese home and put them in water,” she said, giving Julia the double handful of bright flowers, “and they’ll stay fresh for as long as you like.”
    Julia looked apprehensively at the flower boxes, but was relieved to see that the loss of her dozen scarcely affected their appearance at all: the flowers grew there in such abundance that only a few small gaps were now visible. The massed scent of the flowers in her hands made her light-headed. They were overwhelmingly sensual. One of the fleshy tulips brushed her face.
    “I don’t mean to look as though I’m sending you away,” Lily said. “These flowers can always be put in water here until you leave. Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight? I’ve got … let’s see, some nice little chops. Or was this one of my vegetarian nights? There is enough food, anyhow. Afterwards we could watch a delicious new series on the television. One of those wonderful costume dramas. I’ve never read much Trollope, you know, but it means so much more all acted out. And the language is so beautiful, none of the vulgarity the younger playwrights go in for now. Will you watch it with me? It’s fascinating, and I could tell you what’s happened in the earlier five hundred episodes.”
    “I’m out of the television habit,” Julia said, smiling. “Your brother wouldn’t allow one in the house. I do think I’ll go home. Thank you for everything, Lily.”
    “Have you a telephone?”
    “I’m not supposed to, but I do,” said Julia. “It’s still in the name of William McClintock. But I could practically shout across the park to you.”
    Lily nodded, apparently satisfied.
    Julia slipped the book under her arm and, still holding the flowers with both hands, turned to leave the terrace.
    “Now remember your promise!” she called over her shoulder to Lily.
    Later, Julia regretted that she had not accepted Lily’s offer of nut cutlets and
The Pallisers
. She had fallen asleep on the McClintocks’ enormous gray velvet couch just after lying down on it to rest her feet; she had been trying to read a novel she had bought and begun in the Knightsbridge hotel the night previous, a Penguin edition of
Herzog
, but had fallen asleep after two pages. When she awakened, the smell of Lily’s flowers pervading the large room, her mouth felt unpleasantly thick. She was very hungry, despite a dull pain just behind the frontal bone of her forehead. She marked her place in the book with a wrinkled tissue from the pocket of her dress and went through the long room to the