They went to Versailles. Lilian saw Nancy Cobb sitting on a bench, and felt it couldn’t possibly be she, then they both decided they knew each other and said hello. Nancy Cobb had heard about Lilian’s engagement, and said she’d had a crush on Gilbert Finch long ago, but that he’d never liked her back. Remembering Benjy Rogers and how Nancy Cobb had eclipsed her so many summers before, Lilian was proud of Gilbert and found herself liking Nancy Cobb more because of it. Her parents had always wanted her to marry a doctor, Nancy said, and she guessed she’d never get the chance. A doctor? Lilian said. Nancy Cobb had an encouraging look. Oh, you must be thinking of Winn, Lilian said. Yes, that’s right! Nancy Cobb said. I knew Gilbert wasn’t the right name — it was Winn Finch. His brother, Lilian said. Oh, said Nancy Cobb, I guess I don’t know Gilbert.

One rainy afternoon Lilian stayed a long time at the l’Orangerie, hushed by the Cézannes. Walking back through the Tuileries she saw the couples sharing umbrellas, and missed Gilbert more than ever, aching to feel his arm against hers.

She bought herself a present — the fatal effect of Paris — in the shape of a Persian miniature. Her father scorned it, thinking it decadent taste. Lilian found it prettier in opposition. It was of a forest with lots of snakes, and birds, and animals, with a man in pink riding through on a white horse. She put it against the foot of her bed to admire while she waited for breakfast.

The boulevards were teeming.

Everyone else dined at nine, but the latest the Eliots could stand was eight, staying a few minutes at the end to stare at the people. The ladies were dressed like Indians on the warpath.

A woman from Boston named Edith Quincy was in Paris, and Lilian had tea with her. She was quite changed from the last time Lilian had seen her when she’d come to help them farm on the shore in June. While weeding, Edith Quincy had told some rough stories which had made even Arthur pale, but now she was talking about what churches they ought to see and wanting to know the news from Boston. Lilian was sadly disappointed.

They went to dine in the Bois several times and drove around afterwards past the lake. The boats were out, each with a red Japanese lantern on it, carefully arranged to shed no light whatsoever on the interior. Lilian saw the shine of a woman’s bracelet, the white of a man’s collar deep in the shadows among the pooling red reflections. Later, back in her room with the night glow of Paris coming through the part in the curtains, she had difficulty getting to sleep.