“That of course.”
“Well then, you won’t—not just yet that is. I’m going to stay and have supper with you. There’s a splendid moon, and you can ride back with me until I’m in sight of the house. How does that appeal?”
“In the way of perfection.”
“Same here. I didn’t let on I was coming here to-day, but nobody will give me away whatever time I get back, that’s one thing.”
Chapter Four.
“I will not let him go.”
Lalanté’s intention of spending the evening with him had come with the effect of a reprieve upon Wyvern. For all his trust in her he never parted with her without vague misgivings that by some means or other it might be for the last time; for did he not hold her in opposition to a growing and decided parental hostility? It would be through no fault of hers, he told himself, were such misgivings justified. With all her strength and resolution, circumstances might be too strong for her, hence the misgiving.
They wandered about, happy for the moment, watching the great rays of the westering sun sweep lower and lower over the green expanse of the river valley—upon which now, the whiteness of returning flocks moved slowly homeward.