De Grost gazed reflectively at the cigarette which he had just selected from his case.
"Well," he remarked, "there have been times when I have cursed myself for a fool, but, on the whole, sentiment keeps many fires burning."
She leaned towards him and dropped her voice a little.
"Tell me," she begged, "do you ever think of the years we spent together in the country? Do you ever regret?"
He smiled thoughtfully.
"It is a hard question, that," he admitted. "There were days there which I loved, but there were days, too, when the restlessness came—days when I longed to hear the hum of the city and to hear men speak whose words were of life and death and the great passions. I am not sure, Violet, whether, after all, it is well for one who has lived to withdraw absolutely from the thrill of life."
She laughed softly but gaily.
"I am with you," she declared, "absolutely. I think that the fairies must have poured into my blood the joy of living for its own sake. I should be an ungrateful woman indeed if I found anything to complain of nowadays. Yet there is one thing that sometimes troubles me," she went on, after a moment's pause.
"And that?" he asked.
"The danger," she said slowly. "I do not want to lose you, Peter. There are times when I am afraid."