She laughed at this.
“Then you are right,” she said. “I am never eagerly bored. And to tell you the truth, I don’t think I shall be bored when I sit to you. Ah, there is Philip. He does not see us; I wonder whether he will?”
Philip’s white-fronted figure had appeared at this moment at the French window leading out of the drawing-room, and his eyes, fresh from the bright light inside, were not yet focussed to the obscurity of the dusk. At that moment Madge found herself suddenly wishing that he would go back again. But as soon as she was conscious she wished that, she resolutely stifled the wish and called to him.
“Evelyn there, too?” he asked. “Evelyn, you’ve got to go in and take my place.”
“And you will take mine,” said he with just a shade of discontent in his voice.
“No, my dear fellow,” said Philip. “I shall take my own.”
He laughed.
“I congratulate you again,” he said, and left them.
Philip stood for a moment in silence by the girl, looking at her with a sort of shy, longing wonder.
“Ah, what luck!” he said at length. “What stupendous and perfect luck.”