"I don't flatter myself she's broken-hearted."
"No," she conceded. "You treated her pretty rough, though. You're not everybody's money, you know, Stephen."
"By no means." He turned his head, and looked down at her. "Am I yours, Mathilda?"
She did not answer for a moment or two, but strode on beside him, her hands dug into the pockets of her coat. When she thought she could trust her voice, she said: "Is that a declaration?"
"Don't come the ingenue, Mathilda, my love! Of course it is!"
"A bit sudden, isn't it?"
"No, it's belated. I ought to have made it five years ago."
"Why didn't you?"
"I don't know. Took you for granted, I suppose."
"Just a good sort," she remarked.