"Well?" said Harry.
Wilbraham's eyes dropped, and he walked on, Harry with him. "You've been meeting here," he said.
"Yes."
Another pause. Then from Wilbraham: "You've been making love."
"Making love? I don't like the expression. We love each other—yes."
Wilbraham said nothing, and they walked on together. Presently they came to a fallen tree by the side of the path. "Let's sit down here and have it out," said Wilbraham.
Harry spoke first. "I'm glad you know," he said. "I'd like all the world to know; you can tell why, now you've seen her. But I suppose it wouldn't do for mother and Granny to know—not just yet."
Wilbraham seemed to pull his determination together. "My dear boy," he said, "you mustn't take it for granted that they're not to know. It has come as a complete surprise to me; I don't know what to do about it yet."
Harry laughed. The situation seemed to contain no awkwardness for him, whatever doubts it might have brought to Wilbraham. "Before you settle that," he said, "tell me what you think of her."
"She's a very beautiful child," said Wilbraham, thoughtfully. He laid no stress on the word "child," to belittle Harry's confession of love. It was as she had struck him.