Her presence by his side made him say—
“It is an insult to Norway to be reminded of it by storm and rain, but I could fancy myself back there again. Why?”
Anne laughed.
“Which part of Norway?”
He answered promptly, “Gudvangen”; adding, meaningly, “And that was a day of sunshine.”
“Weather failing, you must be content with a frivolous association,” she said mirthfully; “it is merely that I am wearing the same hat and coat.”
“You remembered, then?” he asked, gathering delicious assurance from the fact.
“I don’t think it is I who have shown forgetfulness,” said Anne, in a low voice. In the same tone he returned—
“Certainly I cannot be accused of it.”
It will be seen that matters were proceeding merrily, and unchecked—rather, one might say, assisted—by the modest presence of Miss Tempest. She being there, Wareham knew that he could not go to the point which was as yet forbidden, and, feeling himself safe from that temptation, had the delight of dallying round it, and venturing more closely than he yet had dared. Anne, on her side, saw the advance, and not realising that it was really favoured by limits, felt herself in the mood to be swung along, and resolved as to the moment when her companion should receive a hint to go. Meanwhile she flung her a crumb or two.