“You have,” said Alan quickly, “the jewels have brought close on one hundred thousand pounds, which all belong to you.”
“What is mine is yours, darling. You know that.”
“Yet nasty people will say that I married you for your money, Marie.”
She pouted. “What a compliment to me, as if I were an ugly girl.”
“Quite so, instead of being the most perfect woman ever created.”
“Oh,” Marie sighed from sheer pleasure, “say that again.”
Alan did so with a laugh. “Marie, will you ever have enough flattery.”
“It’s not flattery, it’s the truth, and I like you always to tell me the truth,” said Marie as they entered the dell. “Come and sit down on the edge of the pool, Alan, and have a talk.”
“Why not call it the well?” he asked, while they balanced themselves on the circle of stones, and he placed his arm round her waist to support her.
“Simon Ferrier called it the pool, and I think it’s a very good name.”