"Come!" he said gently.
She turned without a word, laid the dog tenderly in a chair, whispered to him, kissed him, and went to the open window.
They stepped out together, and the curtains met behind them.
The moon had passed out of sight behind the houses, but the sky was alight with stars. A faint breeze trembled through the trees in the quiet square garden, and the faint, wonderful essence of summer came from them. From a distance sounded the roar of countless wheels—the deep chorus of London's traffic.
They stood side by side in silence while behind them Rupert played the Wedding March to a triumphant end. Then quiet descended, and there came a long pause.
Chris broke it at last, moved, and shyly spoke. "Trevor!"
"What is it, dear?"
She drew slightly towards him, and at once he put a quiet arm about her.
"I want to tell you something," she said.
"Something serious?" he questioned.
"I—I don't know." A faint note of distress sounded in her voice. She laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder with a very confiding gesture. "I'm not quite happy," she said.