“Explains everything I haven’t understood in you of late... Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I wasn’t sure, I suppose, that I ought to tell you... I’m not sure now that I’ve done well.”
“Oh! yes,” she returned quickly. “I’m glad you trusted me... I’m sorry. I hate to see you hurt.”
“One gets over that—in time,” he said. “I’m not going to let it swamp me.”
And then abruptly he drew his hand from under hers and stood up.
“They provide tea in the cottage up there,” he said. “Come along and have some.”
He drew her up from the bench, and gripped her hand hard when she stood beside him, forcing a smile to his lips.
“This spot stirs the emotions,” he said. “I shall always think of it as the Place of Memories...”