"Well, yes—down there in the lower meadow. I waved my handkerchief to you, but, of course, one needn't see a thing unless one likes."
"I should have liked," said he. "But I didn't see."
"No? And then I called to you. You"—with a glance from under her long lashes—"had to come then."
"You know very well," said he, with some reproach, "that I was only too glad to come."
She laughed a little, but she had the grace to blush.
"What made you do that yesterday?" asked she at last, in a low tone.
"Who told you?" asked he. "But that is outside the matter. I did it because it was what I have been longing to do for months. Of course"—slowly—"I could say I did it because he insulted me, but there's no good telling a lie about it."
"For months! And why?"
"Well—if you will have it," said he desperately. "I half killed that fellow because you had promised to marry him, and— God forgive me—I'm not a bit sorry for it."
There was a short silence, then Elfrida looked straight at him.