Problems faded out upon the languid air, for Pauline was too well content with Guy's company to spoil the June peace. At last, however, she disengaged herself from his caressing arm and turned to him a serious and puzzled face. And when she was asking her question she knew how all the afternoon it had been fretting the back of her mind.
"Why was Mother angry with me yesterday because I came into Plashers Mead to say good night to you?"
"Was she angry?" asked Guy.
"Well, Monica saw us and got home before me and told her, and she was worried at what people would think. What would they think?"
Guy looked at her; then he shook his fist at the sky.
"Oh, God, why must people try...."
She touched his arm.
"Guy, don't swear. At least not.... You'll call me superstitious and foolish," she murmured, dismayfully, "but really it hurts me to hear you say that."
"I don't think you anything but the most lovely and perfect thing on earth," he vowed, passionately. "And it drives me mad that people should try to spoil your naturalness ... but still ... it was thoughtless of me."
"But why, why?" she asked. "That's the word Mother used about you. Only why, why? Why shouldn't I go and say good night?"