"No, but this room is frightening, Guy," she persisted. "This seems so near to being lived in by dead people."
"And what can dead people do to you and me?" he asked with that sidelong mocking smile which she half disliked, half loved.
Pauline looked back over her shoulder once: then she came across to where he invited her to sit in the window-bay.
"I ought to have brought my diamond pencil," he said. "This is such a window for mottoes. Why, I declare! Somebody has scrawled one. Look, Pauline. Pauline, look! 1770. R.G. P.F. inside a heart. Oh, what a pity it wasn't P.G. for Pauline Grey. Still the G can stand for Guy. Oh, really, I think it's an extraordinary coincidence! P.F.? We can find out which of the Fentons that was. We'll look up in the history of the family. Darling, I am so glad we came to this little room. Think of those lovers who sat here once like us. Pauline, it makes me cherish, you so."
She sat upon his knee, because the window seat was dusty and because in this place of fled lovers she wanted to be held closely to his heart.
The wind boomed and moaned, and the sun breaking through the clouds lit up the walls with a wild yellow light.
Suddenly Pauline drew away from his arms.
"Shadows went by the window," she cried. "Guy, I feel afraid. I feel afraid. There's a footstep."
She was lily-white, whose cheeks had but now been burning so fiercely.
"Nonsense," he replied half-roughly. "It was that burst of sunshine."