I make no attempt to tell how we met. It was much as we had met after other separations, except that when he slipped to the low boulder and took me in his arms it was with a certainty of possession which had never hitherto belonged to him. There was nothing for me but to let myself go, and lie back in his embrace.
I came to myself, as it were, on hearing him whisper, with his face close to mine:
"You witch! You witch! How did you ever manage it?"
I made the necessity for giving him an explanation the excuse for working myself free.
"I didn't manage it. It was Mrs. Brokenshire."
He cried out, incredulously:
"Oh no! Not the madam!"
"Yes, Hugh. It was she. She asked him. She must have begged him. That's all I can tell you about it."
He was even more incredulous.
"Then it must have been on your account rather than on mine; you can bet your sweet life on that!"