"You like it?" He was looking at her in such a peculiar way that Patricia shivered again. It seemed to break her composure, which she was struggling so hard to preserve.
"Oh, my dear," she whispered suddenly. "I'm not worth it!"
Her hands were in his, and her eyes were as candid as his own. So they sat in the car on that bright morning, upon the top of the Hog's Back, and the wide rise and fall of the lower lands spreading to north and south under a slight haze. The sky above them was a deep blue. The road was open, and it seemed that none used it, so peaceful was the scene upon this glorious morning. Only Edgar and Patricia were there, with the breeze around them, and the sunshine ardent, and a sense of the limitlessness of the world strong in both.
It was here that their talk began.
v
"Of course the trouble about you is that you don't love me," said Edgar, in a cool voice which showed that he was anxious by its elaborate calm. "Not, at any rate, as I love you."
"No," agreed Patricia. Her own tone was a copy of his; and the word was a mere acceptance. She was as grave as he, and yet neither was grave. They were both grave and not grave. But Patricia had said "no"; and Edgar had received the shock to which he had steeled himself.
"Do you—forgive me—you don't love anybody else? It isn't, of course, necessary that you should; but sometimes it's a factor."
Patricia glanced up at him, and even in her gravity she smiled.
"No, I don't love anybody else," she said. "And I know you well enough to know that when you talk like that you're being funny."