"Yes, isn't she?"
"Has she a name yet?"
"No. You must christen her."
"I should call her Time, because she flies so fast."
"You'd have to particularize. All time doesn't fly."
"No," she said, "ah, no! And she ought to have a splendid sort of name, she is so magnificently triumphant over space and time. Raleigh would have called her the 'Gloriana.'"
"So will we," said he. And they left Rye behind, and again the silence folded them round, and still her hand lay close in the crook of his arm.
At Winchelsea she suddenly asked, "Where's Charles?"
"Charles," he said, gravely, "is visiting my old nurse. He is well and happy—a loved and honored guest."
"The dear!" she said, absently. They were nearing Hastings before he spoke again, almost in a whisper, and this time what he said was what he meant to say.