Midday
She prepares the most succulent viands in his honour . Her French cookery book is daily in requisition , and , judging from the savoury smells which mount from the basement , he likes his food well seasoned . Fortunately he is nothing to Jeanne , although she does notice the way he walks from his hips , and his fine carriage . Midday is the pleasantest hour now . Then the sea is quiet and free from trippers . Even the birds cease to sing , and the gardener takes his sleep . Jeanne sits on the verandah , as I have given her permission to do , with some little piece of sewing .