Cleo ran to meet her flapping sloppy seaweed, spinning it round her head and shoulders like an African Dervish practicing.
        Rose rolled her eyes in disgust, screamed delicately protecting her skirts; Cleo collapsed in laughter into the sand at her feet. It was hot and dazzling. The waves were small and made merry noises as they performed with gray pebbles and broke everything up including themselves and also ruddy striped shells coiled 1 way, another.
        Cleo lifted a lavender 1. "Why are there chambers? Why are there so many rooms?"
        "Why not?" Rose replied. Streaking sandpipers were in her brown eyes like silver darts.
        Cleo watched them. "Are you still thinking about them?"
        "No," Rose lied, "not really."
        "Violet, what a beautiful dress."
        "Don't be silly, Rose."
        Rose shrugged. "For your sake I thought I'd say it before Elaine."
        "Your eyes are wicked today. What have you been up to?" Violet accepted a cup of tea.
        Rose shrugged.
        Violet eyed her, tipping her head. Rose seemed to have temporarily displaced her demons or maybe it was that they had other whims. Rose would reach a fever pitch of wildness tonight. She would pursue what she had to den to cleft to private parlor.
        Sun dappled the lawn cheerfully. The scattered tables were like blooms upon the green, with cloths of pink or cream. Violet joined Carrie at 1 counting the myriad steps occasioned by her
        very
        narrow
        lavender
        skirt.