"I daresay it will," Sir Geoffrey agreed, "but I have always believed in getting to the bottom of things immediately. When you're married, Gwen, avoid a misunderstanding with your husband as you would avoid the devil. Quarrel if you must, but, at any rate, know what you're quarrelling about. That's good advice."
"How can an old bachelor give any good advice about the married state?" Gwendolen asked lightly, and she nodded gaily as she ran upstairs, not noticing how the expression altered on Sir Geoffrey's face.
"Blows beneath the heart dealt by those one loves the most," he muttered sadly. "Well, it's inevitable in this world, I suppose, and, after all, there's compensation in the love itself. But Ralph ought not to have stooped to borrow that money from Melville; and what on earth can he have wanted it for that he was afraid to ask me? That's the sting," and the old gentleman walked slowly to his library and shut himself in there alone.
Both to Sir Geoffrey and to Gwendolen the morning seemed to drag, but at last the train which brought Ralph from town arrived, and, heedless of the bystanders, Gwendolen kissed her lover and walked down the hill with him to the river.
"Had a happy morning, dear?" he asked.
"A very long one," Gwendolen replied. "Time is very inconsiderate to people who are in love; it flies when they are together and halts when they are alone, whereas, of course, it ought to do exactly the reverse."
"Of course it ought," Ralph assented, "but, anyhow, it's ripping to be alive. By Jove, Gwen, I think I'm the happiest man in the whole world."
Gwen looked at him critically.
"I'm sure you are the nicest," she said enthusiastically, and did not demur to his finding her approval an excuse for another kiss.
"Let's go on the houseboat," he said, "and after luncheon I will punt you up to where the water lilies are."