24 Jul 1921

24 July 1921

Chalet des Sapins, Montana-sur-Sierre, Switzerland

The New Baby.
At half-past ten the yacht steamed into the Sound, slowed down ... "Hullo" said someone, "we've stopped." For a moment, and it seemed like a long moment, everybody was silent. They heard the crying of little waves from the distant beach, the soft moist breath of the large wind came flowing gently over the dark sea. And, looking up at the sky one fancied that even those merrily-burning stars were telling one another that the yacht had anchored for the night.
     Then "Come on girls" cried the genial old mayor. And Gertrude Pratt began to bang out The Honeysuckle and the Bee on the squat tinny piano. As the whole party had sung the same song every night for the past three weeks the noise was considerable, but very pleasant. It was an extraordinary relief after the long dazzling day to lie on deck and to put all one's heart into
     "I love you dearly dearly and I
      Want you to love me."
You couldn't say these things. And yet you felt them. At least - the ladies did. Not for anybody in particular but for everybody, for the lamp, even, hanging from the deck awning, for Tanner the steward's hand as it stroked the guitar. Love! Love! There was no escaping it. It was all very well to pretend to be interested in other things, to look through the glasses, to ask the Captain intelligent questions as you stood on the bridge, to admire Mrs Strutt's marvellous embroidery.
     There were exquisite small shells to be found on these beaches, small greeny-blue kinds, coral spirals, and tiny yellow ones like grains of maize.

[KM Notebooks.]