He laughed gloomily and vowed it was the exhilarating weather. Up the broad walk they went slowly, and every yard was bringing them dreadfully nearer to Wychford High Street and the profanation of this snowy silence. Abruptly a robin began to sing from a bough almost overhead; and, Guy realizing half-unconsciously that unless he told Margaret now, his words would die upon that robin's rathe melody, said:
"Margaret, you'll probably be angry, but I must tell you that I'm in love with your sister."
He drove his stick deep into the snow to give his eyes the excuse of looking down.
"With Pauline," she said softly.
He congratulated himself upon the cunning with which he had at least thrown something on Margaret of the responsibility, as he almost called it. Had she said Monica, it would have killed his hope at once.
"Of course I know it must sound ridiculous, but...."
"Is she in love with me?" asked Margaret with tender mockery. "Well, I think she may be. Perhaps I'm almost sure she is."
"Margaret," said Guy seizing her hand. "I hope you'll be the happiest person in the world always. You know, don't you, that I'm dying for you to be happy."
There may have been tears in her eyes as she responded with faintest pressure of her hand to his affection.
"And you won't forget all about me and take no more interest in what will seem my maddening indecision, when you and Pauline are happy?"