“I don’t suppose I’d ever have known you, Cyril, over there in England. You always did wonderful things carelessly, Cyril.”
“But not this wonderful thing——” and he kissed her.
“It is a wonderful thing,” she whispered. “So wonderful that I wonder if it can be true.”
“I’ll prove it to you——”
But she had straightened and kissed his hand.
“No more now—I mustn’t stay. I hear them in the hall.”
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Jackson?”