"We know each other pretty well," he continued, "and the better we know each other, the more we find to talk about. It's a very good sign—don't you think? I can't see how I'm to get along without you, after this journey. I don't like to think of it, and I won't think of it! Say there's no need to."
Her silence, her still attitude, had restored his courage. He spoke at length like himself, with quiet assurance, with sincerity; and again it was the best thing he could have done.
"I am not quite sure, Mr. Jacks, that I think about it in the same way."
Her voice was subdued to a very pleasant note, but it did not tremble.
"I can allow for that uncertainty—though I have nothing of it myself. We shall both be in London for a month or so. Let me see you as often as I can, and, before you leave town, let me ask whether the doubt has been overcome."
"I hold myself free," said Irene impulsively.
"Naturally."
"I do you no wrong if it seems to me impossible."
"None whatever."
His eyes were fixed on her face, dimly beautiful in the fading shimmer from sea and sky. Irene met his glance for an instant, and moved away, he following.