She got out of the car, and "Red" rattled down to the home-made garage a few rods away.
They were alone; and they stood there in the path for a moment, looking into each other's eyes.
"He is my husband," Lucia then found herself saying. "I am now Mrs. Pell."
"What are we going to do?" Gilbert asked. He had the face of a dreamer, she thought. The steel-gray eyes were full of fire and longing. What had these few years done to him?
"We are going to do nothing at all. What is there to do? We shall not be here many days. If you'd rather we went back to Bisbee...."
"Oh, no! That would only make an issue of nothing. He doesn't know anything? You're sure? Oh, Lucia!" He seemed suddenly overcome at their amazing meeting.
She saw that she would have to be the mistress of the situation. "Don't—don't, Gilbert," she begged. "I am just a guest of yours."
"I know—I know," he said, and there was a shade of anguish in his voice. "Forgive me. There shall be absolutely nothing said. Not even a gesture. I promise you that. It is as though we had never known each other."
"Surely we can play a part. It isn't as if we were children," she said, and smiled.
He looked at her—indeed, his eyes had never left her face. Never had she seemed so wonderful to him.