"Yes, I certainly am reckless."
"Then why aren't you reckless now? You're going away. Why, you haven't even told her you love her. The other man—is here, and—I've seen him look at her? I know by the way she speaks of him how she feels. Besides, he's a great masterful creature. Don't be a fool! Have a try . . . Junia—Junia," he called.
The figure in the garden with the flowers turned. There was a flicker of understanding in the rare eyes. The girl held up a bunch of flowers high like a torch.
"I'm coming, my children," she called, and, with a laugh, she ran forward through the doorway.
"What is it you want, Fabian?" she asked, conscious that in Carnac's face was consternation. "What can I do for you?" she added, with a slight flush.
"Nothing for me, but for Carnac—" Fabian stretched out a hand.
She laughed brusquely. "Oh, Carnac! Carnac! Well, I've been making him this bouquet." She held it out towards him. "It's a farewell bouquet for his little journey in the world. Take it, Carnac, with everybody's love—with Fabian's love, with Sibyl's love, with my love. Take it, and good-bye."
With a laugh she caught up her hat from the table, and a moment later she was in the street making for the mountain-side up which the children had gone.
Carnac placed the bouquet upon the table. Then he turned to his brother.
"What a damn mess you make of things, Fabian!"