“So they are,” said Peggy.
Edith got grave again.
“And he is just exactly the old simple Hugh all the time. Oh, Peggy! I almost want the years to run on quickly in order to show you how wrong you were. Yet in the same breath I want it to be to-day always, not to-morrow, not next week, not next month even.”
This set Peggy off on to the obvious train of thought which this suggested.
“When are you going down to Mannington?” she said.
“I don’t know; I haven’t the slightest idea. But I can’t suggest it to Hugh, when he is having such a splendid time.”
Tea arrived at this moment, a fact of which Peggy was rather glad, for it gave her manual occupation so that she could think over in a natural silence what she wanted to say.
“But you are quite well?” she asked.
“Gorgeously well! But I——”
“Ah, you’re tired!” put in Peggy quickly.