"And that's just what I have said to your mother," replied Justin, pressing his lips to the red gold curls resting against his shoulder; "I couldn't keep away any longer!"
Anstice left him to his children. They met half an hour later at the dinner table, and their conversation was limited to Justin's fishing experiences in the fiords.
There was a good deal of correspondence awaiting his return, and to Anstice's surprise, he shut himself into the smoking-room with it for the rest of the evening.
He wished her good night courteously but hardly affectionately, when she came to him to say that she was going to retire. And then, as she was leaving him, he spoke:
"Anstice, to-morrow morning I want your undivided attention. I am not going to stand any interruption, so will you come out with me directly after breakfast? I see that my only chance will be to get away from both house and children. We're in for a fine spell, so we'll take our lunch in the motor launch."
Anstice hesitated.
"I promised—"
"Whatever promises you have made must be broken. I have come home to have a talk with you, and that talk must be had to-morrow."
"Very well," she said quietly. "Your claims come first. I will send a message through Brenda to the Nixons to say I will go over another day."
She left him, and went upstairs to her room, but she did not go to bed, she sat by her window looking out into the hushed moonlit garden, and her thoughts grew complicated and confused. She heard her husband come up to his room soon after midnight, and later she was conscious of his restless pacing up and down the room.