Hovenden laughed too. He was happy, he was joyful, he was daring.
“Would you marry me if I asked you?” he said. The question followed naturally and by a kind of logic from what they had been saying about Hannibal and his elephants. He did not look at her as he asked the question; when one is doing sixty-seven one must keep one’s eyes on the road.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Irene.
“I’m not talking nonsense,” Lord Hovenden protested. “I’m asking a straightforward question. Would you marry me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” said Irene.
They had passed Castiglione. The fixed stars of Montepulciano and Cortona had set behind them.
“Don’t you like me?” shouted Lord Hovenden. The wind had swelled into a hurricane.
“You know I do.”