She looked as though she thought that it did not much matter whether or no Mr. Knight waited for his dinner, then said:
“Well, you can come up to the Hall and dine with me.”
“I think I had better not,” he answered. “You see, we are getting on so well together—I mean my father and I, and I don’t want to begin a row again. He would hate it.”
“You mean, Godfrey, that he would hate your dining with me. Well, that is true, for he always loathed me like poison, and I don’t think he is a man to change his mind. So perhaps you had better go. Do you think we shall be allowed to see each other again?” she added with sarcasm.
“Of course. Let’s meet here to-morrow at eleven. My father is going to a Diocesan meeting and won’t be back till the evening. So we might spend the day together if you have nothing better to do.”
“Let me see. No, I have no engagement. You see, I only came down half an hour before we met in the church.”
Then they rose from their willow log and stood looking at each other, a very proper pair. Something welled up in him and burst from his lips.
“How beautiful you have grown,” he said.
She laughed a little, very softly, and said:
“Beautiful! I? Those Alpine snows affect the sight, don’t they? I felt like that on Popocatepetl. Or is it the twilight that I have to thank? Oh! you silly old Godfrey, you must have been living among very plain people.”