"I'm in the mist—but Leonard isn't. He grows clearer and clearer, and" (she smiled faintly) "larger and larger. His great kind loving-roughness fills all my vision. I suppose it filled all my vision then, and so—it happened!" She turned to me with a quick question. "Do you think I'm right in the determination I've come to about myself?"
"I should be far from holding it obligatory either on you or on anyone else. Good things pass by—and things indifferent—and things bad. The disturbance passes off the face of life's stream; the stream pursues its course. There's no duty on you, in my opinion. Yet I think that for yourself you're right."
"I'm glad you do," she told me. "At that we'll leave it—a fixed point!"
"Unless Lord Fillingford is very obstinate?"
As she looked at me, a smile broke slowly over her face. "From the way you say that, I think you suspect me of having indulged in a little bluff this afternoon. But I think I was honest. I don't mean to do it, I should hate doing it—but they might make me angry enough."
"I don't believe you'd ever go through with it. We should have flight again!"
"Too awful!" sighed Jenny, frowning, yet almost smiling. She smiled frankly the next moment, as she turned to me and laid her hand on my arm. "Do let's agree—you and I—that I'm quite incapable of it and was bluffing most audaciously!"
"We'll agree to that with all my heart."
"So you spoil me—so you go on spoiling me!" she said very gently.
I went down the hill to my own house, leaving her still sitting there, a stately solitary figure, revolving many thoughts in the depths of her mind.