When first it occurred to Esmé to use her influence to wean Hallam from his nightly practice was uncertain; doubtless her desire had leaned that way from the beginning of their acquaintance; but it was not until she was well into the second week of her holiday that she summoned up sufficient courage one evening while they sat at dinner to propose that he should accompany her for a walk. It was too beautiful a night to spend indoors, she urged.
The man hesitated. She believed that he was going to refuse. It was easy to see that her suggestion was not acceptable to him. It took him aback, and for quite an appreciable while he did not reply to her. Then he said, somewhat brusquely:
“Have you not had walking enough for one day?”
“Come and sit with me on the stoep,” she said, “if you do not care to walk.”
Some quality in her voice, something, too, in the expression of her face, when he turned his face to look at her, arrested his attention. He scrutinised her more closely, and into his eyes, as he watched her, leapt a light of understanding.
“I never met any one quite so indefatigable as you,” he said. “If you really desire exercise, of course I’ll accompany you. There will be a moon to-night. She is young, but she will serve our purpose. Why do you want to walk?”
The question was jerked out abruptly. There was an inflection of curiosity in his tones. Esmé answered quietly, without looking at him.
“I suppose because I feel it is a sin to remain indoors on such a night.”
Had not her eyes been averted from his face she must have seen his lips compress themselves at her words. A sort of hardness came into his voice.
“Your language is somewhat exaggerated,” he returned. “The physical benefit is more obvious than the moral, I think. However, if it gives you a sense of righteousness, so much the better. I will lend myself readily to further that end. What do you usually do in the evenings?”