They said but little else until they rose to go. As he sat watching the long grass wave under the warm wind, Murdoch felt that his excitement had calmed down. He was in a cooler mood when they got up at last. But before they turned away the girl lingered for a moment, as if she wished to speak.
"Sometimes," she faltered,—"sometimes I have thought you had half forgotten."
"Nay," he answered, "never that, God knows!"
"I could not bear to believe it," she said, passionately. "It would make me hate you!"
When they reached home he took her upstairs to his room. He had locked the door when he left it in the morning. He unlocked it, and they went in. A cloth covered something standing upon the table. He drew it aside with an unsteady hand.
"Look at it," he said. "It has been there since last night. You see it haunts me too."
"What!" she said, "you brought it out yourself—again!"
"Yes," he answered, "again."
She drew nearer, and sat down in the chair before the table.