noon
I can see you still-wandering in your dress clothes along the river , among the ` holy ' cows . '' But her eyes slid round again , watching her other neighbour and the girl . A violinist had begun to play the Cesar Franck Sonata . It was Pierson 's favourite piece of music , bringing him , as it were , a view of heaven , of devotional blue air where devout stars were shining in a sunlit noon , above ecstatic trees and waters where ecstatic swans were swimming . `` Queer world , Mr. Pierson ! Fancy those boys having to go back to barrack life after listening to that ! What 's your feeling ?