"We always do—"
"Then marry at once, my dears."
Hermia glanced at Markham, who was leaning over the back of the bench watching the scene with alien eyes. She turned toward Armistead frankly with an extended hand, which he promptly seized.
"You are a nice boy, Reggie. I'll try it. But you'll have to promise—"
"Oh, I'll promise anything," cried Reggie rapturously.
The excellent Trevelyan watched them a moment in silence, and then lighting his cigarette slowly wandered away.
Hermia and Armistead followed hand in hand, but not before Hermia had turned her head over her shoulder and whispered mischievously to Olga:
"You can sit as many risks as you run, Olga, darling."
In the moments which had passed during this interesting revelation Olga Tcherny had been thinking—desperately. The taste of life had never been so sweet in her mouth—nor so bitter. With the departure of the trio Markham had not moved, but his eyes followed the two figures through the rose garden. The moon was suddenly snuffed out and the sea grew lead-color—like a passion that has gone stale. Markham's silhouette loomed monstrous against the sky, and the silence was abruptly broken by the rough laughter of Crosby Downs from somewhere in the distance. Olga shivered and rose.
"Come," she said, "let's follow."