"Her laughter is characteristic—marvellously musical—part of herself, like bells are part of a fair church. Think of making a belfry dumb by a deliberate act! Honor should always be smiling. A little sister of the spring she seems to me, and her laughter goes to my heart like a lark's song, for there's unconscious praise of God in it."
Yeoland glanced at the other.
"You can be sentimental too, then?"
"Not that, but I can be sad, and I am now. A man may well be so to think he has bated by one smile the happiness of Honor."
"Sorry I mentioned it."
"I'm glad. It was a great fault in me. I will try desperately to amend. I'm a dull dog, but I'll——"
"Don't, my dear chap. Don't do anything whatever. Be yourself, or you won't keep her respect. She hates shams. I would change too if I could. But she'd be down on me in a second if I attempted any reformation. The truth is we're both bursting with different good and brilliant qualities—you and I—and poor Honor is dazzled."
Stapledon did not laugh; he only experienced a great desire to be alone.
"Are you going to wait for the badger?" he asked, as they turned and retraced their way.
"Good Lord, no! Are you?"