“We met again in Oxford, only a little while ago,” said Giles. “She saw something that everybody has been seeing; even Jerry saw it.—You know, Alix, I love Toppie as much as ever; yet I’m so changed. It’s all so different. Can you understand that?”
“I never dreamed you could be different about Toppie,” Alix murmured after a moment.
“Was that why you thought I’d never guess, even if I saw your letter to Jerry?”
“I did not think you would ever guess.”
“I didn’t. I never dreamed there was a chance for me; never dreamed it.—That’s what I told them all;—that there wasn’t a chance.”
Alix, too, had been gazing before her, sitting there beside him in her wet white cloak; but as he said this she leaned forward and put her hands up to her face.
“Oh, darling, are you crying?” Giles’s arms were round her as he asked it. “Have I been so stupid?—Is it really me you love?”
“Ever since that day I came to you from Toppie.”
She was crying; but it was in his arms and his cheek was against her dear wet head.
“Happy;—Happy;—Happy”—were the only words in Giles’s mind and they went on and on like a song while he heard the rain falling sweetly and the brightness was all about them.