"Yes, but this is much better. It's a better place than I could have found, and besides—"
"Besides—?"
"It isn't Thursday."
When luncheon, a merry meal and a leisurely, was over, they leaned against a fallen pillar and rested their eyes on the beauty of green floor, red walls, and the blue sky roofing all. And above the skylarks sang.
"There's nothing between us now," he said, contentedly—"no cloud, no misunderstanding."
"No," she answered, "and I don't want there ever to be anything between us. So I'm going to tell you about Chester—the thing that worried me and I couldn't tell. Do you remember?"
"I think I do," he said, grimly.
"Only you must promise you won't be angry."
"With you?" he asked, incredulously.
"No . . . with him . . . and you must try to believe that it is true. No, of course not; I don't mean you're not likely to believe what I say, but what he said."