Carteret drew back, flattening himself against the iron pillar in the
shadow, as they passed down the steps into the garden below; the women's
pale airy forms and the men's dark ones, pacing the shining paths in
groups and couples, between the flower-beds, under the flat-headed pines,
the shaggy-stemmed palms and towering eucalyptus, in and out massed banks
of blossoming shrubs and dwarf hedges of monthly roses.
Midway in the light-hearted procession came Damaris, Peregrine Ditton on
one side of her, Harry Ellice on the other. Leaving the main alley, the
trio turned along a path, running parallel to the verandah, which opened
into a circle surrounding the stone basin of a tinkling fountain,
immediately below Colonel Carteret's post of solitary observation.
Damaris carried the demi-train of her white satin gown over her arm,
thereby revealing a wealth of lace frilled petticoat, from beneath
which the toes of her high-heeled, white satin shoes stepped with a
pretty measured tread. The two boys, leaning a little towards one
another, talked across her, their voices slightly raised in argument,
not to say dispute.
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