Ross shook hands with him. “You are very kind, Mr. Thaddler,” he said. “I am obliged to you. But I think we will walk.”
Tall and impressive, looking more distinguished in a six-year-old evening suit than even the Hoch Geborene in his uniform, he came at last, and Diantha saw him the moment he entered; saw, too, a new light in his eyes.
He went straight to her. And Mrs. Weatherstone did not lay it up against him that he had but the briefest of words for his hostess.
“Will you come?” he said. “May I take you home—now?”
She went with him, without a word, and they walked slowly home, by far outlying paths, and long waits on rose-bowered seats they knew.
The moon filled all the world with tender light and the orange blossoms flooded the still air with sweetness.
“Dear,” said he, “I have been a proud fool—I am yet—but I have come to see a little clearer. I do not approve of your work—I cannot approve of it—but will you forgive me for that and marry me? I cannot live any longer without you?”
“Of course I will,” said Diantha.