"Poor old England!"
"No, Erskine, I meant a mile nearer Australia—that was the jolly feeling," Tiny made haste to explain. "You know I didn't mean anything else—you know how I have enjoyed being with you and Ruth. Only I can't help wishing I was on my way back to Melbourne instead of to Plymouth. I'd give so much to see Australia again."
"Well, so you will see it again."
Her eyes sped seaward as she shook her head.
"Why on earth shouldn't you?" said Erskine, laughing.
"You know why."
Now he saw her meaning, and held his tongue. This was the subject on which he understood it to be her desire that they should not speak. To himself, moreover, it was a highly unattractive topic, and he was thoroughly glad to have it ignored as it had been; but if she alluded to the matter herself that was another thing, and he must say something. So he said:
"Is it really so certain, Tiny?"
"On my part absolutely. I'm only climbing down!"
Erskine was reminded of the pleasant things he had thought of saying to her at Cintra; they had been by him so long that he found himself saying them now as though he meant every word.