Ariadne stepped out of the morning room. She wore a dress of fresh peony pink, and her hair was coiled on her head. On seeing Anna, her cheeks flushed. Charles Fairchild stepped ahead with Inquisitor Bridgestock, and Ariadne stepped up to her.

“I did not expect to see you so soon,” she said to Anna in a low voice.

“How could I keep away?” Anna replied. Ariadne was wearing her perfume again, and it wafted lightly through the air. Orange blossom was Anna’s favorite scent now.

“Perhaps we can meet later,” Ariadne said. “We are—”

“I will be back again in a year’s time,” Charles said, concluding whatever conversation he was having with Inquisitor Bridgestock. He returned to them, bowed, took Ariadne’s hand, and kissed it formally.

“I hope to see more of you when I next return,” he said. “It should not be more than a year.”

“Yes,” Ariadne replied. “I would like that very much.”

“Anna!” Mrs. Bridgestock said. “We have a parrot. You must see it. Come.”

Suddenly, Anna found that Mrs. Bridgestock had hooked her by the arm and was gently leading her into one of the other rooms, where there was a large multicolored parrot in a massive gold cage. The bird cawed loudly on their approach.

“It is a very nice bird,” Anna said, confused, as Mrs. Bridgestock shut the door behind them.

“I do apologize, Anna,” she said. “I just needed to give the two of them the chance to properly say their farewells. These things can be so delicate. I am sure you understand.”

Anna did not understand, but there was a creeping numbness coming over her.

“It is our hope that they might wed in a few years’ time,” Mrs. Bridgestock went on. “Nothing has been settled, but it is such a good match.”

The parrot screeched and Mrs. Bridgestock went on talking, but Anna heard only a ringing in her ears. She could still taste Ariadne’s kiss on her lips; she saw Ariadne’s dark hair spread out on the pillow. Those things had happened just hours before, and yet it was like a hundred years had passed and the world had grown cold and unfamiliar.

The door opened again, and a quiet Ariadne joined them.

“Has mother introduced you to Winston?” she said, looking at the parrot. “She dotes on him. Aren’t you a nasty beast, Winston?”

She said it warmly, and Winston the parrot danced along his rail and extended a foot to Ariadne.

“Did you have a fruitful discussion?” her mother asked.

“Mother!” Ariadne protested. She was a little pale, but her mother seemed not to notice. “Please, may I speak to Anna?”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Bridgestock said. “You girls have a good chat. I’ll have the cook make up some nice strawberry lemonade and some biscuits.”

When she left, Anna stared blankly at Ariadne.

“You are to be married?” she said, her voice gone dry. “You cannot marry him.”