curious in the sight

"Leave Cambridge and go to the Bar," she said. He pressed herfor her reasons. 　　"I think you'd enjoy London more," she said. It did not seema very subtle reason, but she appeared to think it sufficient. 　　She looked at him against the background of flowering magnolia. 　　There was something curious in the sight. Perhaps it was that the heavywax-like flowers were so smooth and inarticulate, and his face--he had thrown his hat away, his hair was rumpled, he held hiseye-glasses in his hand, so that a red mark appeared on either sideof his nose--was so worried and garrulous. It was a beautiful bush,spreading very widely, and all the time she had sat there talking shehad been noticing the patches of shade and the shape of the leaves,and the way the great white flowers sat in the midst of the green. 　　She had noticed it half-consciously, nevertheless the pattern hadbecome part of their talk. She laid down her sewing, and began to walkup and down the garden, and Hirst rose too and paced by her side. 　　He was rather disturbed, uncomfortable, and full of thought. 　　Neither of them spoke. 　　The sun was beginning to go down, and a change had come over the mountains,as if they were robbed of their earthly substance, and composed merelyof intense blue mist. Long thin clouds of flamingo red, with edgeslike the edges of curled ostrich feathers, lay up and down the skyat different altitudes. The roofs of the town seemed to have sunklower than usual; the cypresses appeared very black between the roofs,and the roofs themselves were brown and white. As usual in the evening,single cries and single bells became audible rising from beneath. 　　St. John stopped suddenly. 　　"Well, you must take the responsibility," he said. "I've made upmy mind; I shall go to the Bar."His words were very serious, almost emotional; they recalled Helenafter a second's hesitation.