"Have you not been sorry for what took place?" she asked, with her eyes on the ground. "Have you not thought the less of me since?"
He turned and looked at her. There was a little smile upon her lips and on her downcast eyes.
"No, by Heaven!" he exclaimed desperately, "I have not, and I am not sorry. Whether I ought to have said what I did or not, it was true, and I wanted you to know——"
He broke off as she turned to him with a smile and a blush. The smile was almost a laugh.
"But, John," she said, "I am not Mrs. Edward Ruggles. I am Mary Blake."
The parapet was fifty feet above the terrace. The hedge of box was an impervious screen.
Well, and then, after a little of that sort of thing, they both began hurriedly to admire the view again, for some one was coming. But it was only one of the gardeners, who did not understand English; and confidence being once more restored, they fell to discussing—everything.
"Do you think you could live in Homeville, dear?" asked John after a while.