She had watched him come down the path, and when he was some ten paces from her, she rose. She had no word, it would seem, for him, nor he for her, and they stood in silence opposite each other. But the clear glance shone on him, steady and quiet and complete. Then, as by some common impulse, her hands and his were clasped together.
‘Just Norah,’ he said.
The grave smile with which she had welcomed him grew a shade graver, a shade more tender.
‘Do you know how I love you?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I know. And—and I give you all you bring me. You know that, don’t you?’
Again by some common impulse they moved off the path, still with hands clasped. They walked through the fallen sky of bluebells, not seeing it, and came to where a fallen trunk, lopped of its branches, lay on the ground.
‘We will sit here a little, shall we?’ she said. ‘It mustn’t be long.’
‘Why not for ever?’ he asked.
‘You know that, too,’ she said.
At that moment there was nothing in the world for him but she.