"We'll sit on the island," he said, "while you eat your food. There's an old hurdle there, and I'll put my coat over it for you."
A few moments later they were talking about Margaret's self, and she felt her heart flutter somewhat at this sudden and very unexpected change of subject.
"D'you mind what you told me some time since, Madge?" he asked. "At least it can't be said you told me; but, between the lines of things that you spoke, I somehow pieced together a sort of feeling you wasn't as happy as you'd a right to be."
"How can you think so? I'm sure--"
"Well, anyway, it got into my stupid head, and as luck would have it I fell in with David a bit after I'd left you. You must remember the day, Madge. It's idle to pretend you've forgot."
"Yes, I remember. I was down-daunted and silly. You oughtn't to have thought twice about my feeble grumbling."
"You didn't grumble. Another person would have marked nothing in what you said; but I know you so well--quick as lightning I am where you are concerned, or any woman I care about. And I talked to David."
She started and stared at him.
"Then I'm very angry indeed with you, Bartley."
"Are you? Well, he wasn't. There's few more sensible, clever chaps knocking about than your husband. Like a flash I opened his eyes, and he thanked me for doing it. Thanked me, mind you."