“Not black depths, surely.”
“Black, without relief. You pulled me out of the Slough of Despond, and the world appears with a rose-coloured ribbon or two fluttering about it before my eyes. Thank you again and again. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye. We are pretty sure to meet again. I suppose it wouldn’t be possible for you to suggest some place where you are likely to take your walks abroad?”
She shook her head.
“That would be to set oneself up as a sort of Providence, wouldn’t it?”
“I like to make arrangements beforehand for coincidences,” said he. “Never mind. When you feel gloomy, and want somebody to confess to, don’t forget that I’m your man.”
“You may be sure of that.”
They had walked a dozen yards or so away from where the car had pulled up, and now he went back to it, and took the wheel from the chauffeur. She watched him start and gave him a little wave of her hand.
He was a mile away before she had turned her face homeward.