Her companion made no reply, as he paced the grass with his eyes on the ground, and his arms locked behind him.
"And you are not coming to England?" she pursued recklessly.
"No; you see my work is out here."
"Ah, yes, of course—and your heart is in your work!"
Oh, what an abominably forward girl she was! If Mrs. Lepell did not quickly return, she would find herself proposing to the man beside her. She felt desperate; cool and self-possessed as she outwardly appeared. Must she go home—and never see him again? Would he not speak even one word? Her heart thumped so violently, she was half afraid that he might hear it!
"You have had some interesting experiences," he remarked. (She was on the verge of the most extraordinary experience of all—did he but guess the truth.)
"But I am sure you will be thankful to get out of this country," he resumed, "and, needless to say—you will never return."
"I—I would return," she stammered—he suddenly stood still, raised his head and looked her intently in the eyes—"I would return," she went on, now with her gaze fixed on the ground—"if I was asked."
"Asked!" he repeated. "What do you mean—asked, by whom?"
"By the right person." Her voice had sunk to a whisper—her cheeks were two flames.