'What is he thinking of?' she asked herself. Her thoughts flashed back.
'And why did he ask me so peculiarly whether he should wire them
at home?' 'Well,' said Siegmund, 'are there any postcards?' 'None that I care to take,' she replied. 'Perhaps you would like one of
these?' She pointed to some faded-looking cards which proved to be imaginary
views of Alum Bay done in variegated sand. Siegmund smiled.
'I wonder if they dribbled the sand on with a fine glass tube,' he said.
'Or a brush,' said Helena.
'She does not understand,' said Siegmund to himself. 'And whatever I do
I must not tell her. I should have thought she would understand.' As he walked home beside her there mingled with his other feelings
resentment against her. Almost he hated her.