But owing to the broad sunshine after shaded passages, and to the substance of living people after dreams, the group appeared with startling intensity, as though the dusty surface had been peeled off everything, leaving only the reality and the instant.

It had the look of a vision printed on the dark at night.

White and grey and purple figures were scattered on the green, round wicker tables, in the middle the flame of the tea-urn made the air waver like a faulty sheet of glass, a massive green tree stood over them as if it were a moving force held at rest.
As she approached, she could hear Evelyn's voice repeating monotonously, "Here then--here--good doggie, come here"; for a moment nothing seemed to happen; it all stood still, and then she realised that one of the figures was Helen Ambrose; and the dust again began to settle.
The group indeed had come together in a miscellaneous way; one tea-table joining to another tea-table, and deck-chairs serving to connect two groups.

But even at a distance it could be seen that Mrs.Flushing, upright and imperious, dominated the party.

She was talking vehemently to Helen across the table.
"Ten days under canvas," she was saying.