"I wasn't quite frank with you a moment ago."
"Already!" she sighed. Then, repentantly: "I know I'm silly. But it means so much to me to feel that we—you and I—can stand before each other, just as we are. Oh, I've hidden myself so long, Basil. Your love—the great temptation of it was that it meant freedom. If I were your wife, you'd expect all sorts of conventional things of me. If you were my husband, I'd feel and you'd feel we had to live up to standards and do customary things. As it is, our love's free—free!"
He was silent.
"Basil, don't you feel that way?"
"Yes, dear," he answered absently. "But—I must tell you. When I went out—a while ago to look, I saw Nanny on the porch."
Even in that dimness he saw the terror in her face. "On the porch!" she gasped. She sprang up. "Why didn't you tell me before?" she cried angrily.
"I—I thought it might alarm you foolishly."
"I'm not a hysterical fool. Please don't forget that—again."
"Courtney!"
"Oh, forgive me—my love." When they had embraced: "Yes—I must go—at once.... Why can't you come with me? Start as soon as you see I'm at the door. But you mustn't cross the lawn. You must go round by the shadows. It would be quite safe. You needn't go back to the shop."