She turned her eyes up to his in their clouded brightness. 'I promise, word of honour, Tommy,' said she.
He nodded in a friendly way and strolled off to the writing-table. She wandered to the window and looked out on the spacious, solid old square. The summer evening was bright and clear, but Peggy was sad that there were things in the world hard to endure. Yet there were other things too; down in her heart was a deep joy because to-day, although she had lost a dear illusion, she had found a new treasure-house.
'I'm thinking some things about you, Tommy, you know,' she said without turning round. There was a little catch in her voice.
'That's all right. Just let me write a letter, and we'll go and dine.'
She stood still till he rose and turned to see her head outlined against the window. For a moment he regarded it in silence, thinking of the grace she carried with her, how she seemed unable to live with meanness, and how for love's sake she would face it now, and, if it might be, heal it by being one of those who loved. He came softly behind her, but she turned to meet him.
'I suppose we must all cry sometimes, Tommy. Do say it makes the joy better!'
'They always tell you that!' He laughed gently.
'I came here to laugh with you, but now——'
'Laughter's the second course to-day,' said Tommy Trent.