“And I’ll be off, too,” she said, “or I shall lose my beauty-sleep. Bless me, have I won all those silver shillings! Somebody will want to marry me for my money.”
“Aunt Hester knows that every handsome young man in London would like to marry her if she hadn’t a penny,” observed Colin.
“You’re a sad rascal,” said Aunt Hester, fearfully pleased. “Goodnight, everybody.”
Aunt Margaret followed, and Violet would have done so, but at the door Colin stopped her.
“Not five minutes’ chat, Vi?” he said. “I haven’t had a word with you all the evening.... Ah, that’s dear of you. Come out on the terrace. Let’s take a stroll. I want to talk to you.”
“Anything special?” asked Violet.
“Oh, just bits of things. Mayn’t a man want to talk to his wife sometimes?”
He paused for a moment as they stepped out. The moonlight shone full-orbed on the front of the house in vivid but colourless illumination, making a warm neutral tone of its mellow redness. Below the lake gleamed silver grey, across it was ruled the velvet blackness of the yew-hedge, and beyond, the marsh stretched level to the sea. Colin’s eyes sparkled as he looked on the heritage that he loved, but came back quickly to Violet.
“My word, you’re a beautiful woman!” he said. “I was in luck, wasn’t I, with my wooing? Did you hear Granny ask me if Raymond had come? I wish he had. I often wish Raymond was here to look on our happiness.”
He took her arm, and began walking towards the yew-hedge. Stanier always stimulated him to be himself, and it was through some little revelation of himself that he could most surely make her wince.