"While I've been away?"
"Yes, while you've been away."
Grantley laughed again. Christine looked at him in dawning wonder. She had expected nothing from this drive but a gloom deepening—or at least a constraint increasing—with every yard they came nearer to Milldean. But there was something new. With some regret she recognised that her acidity, her harping on "Since you went away," had not been the best prelude to questioning or much of an invitation to confidence; and it had, moreover, failed in its primary purpose of annoying Grantley by its implied comment on his conduct. Her voice grew softer, and, with one of her coaxing little tricks, she edged herself closer to his side.
"Any good news among all the bad, Grantley?"
"There's no good news yet," said he.
She caught at his last word.
"Yet? Yet, Grantley?"
"I'm not going to talk any more. That off-horse is a young 'un, and——"
"It's something to have a 'yet' in life again," she half whispered. "'Yet' seems to imply a future—a change, perhaps!"
"Do you want a change too?"