“To get the Sheffield train you must cross the moors again. Then you must wait for some time at the bleak junction. Don’t you feel you’re rash?”
“Not at all,” said Ledward, smiling. “I expect you know I am cautious, but when I started from Glasgow I didn’t bother about the obstacles. All I thought about was the dance I hoped to get.”
“Then you must take the next. The band has changed the music. Let’s get up.”
The violins began, and Ledward gave Evelyn his arm, but he did not take all the dance. When they swung past a door he swept her from the gliding crowd and into the quiet hall. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her.
“You darling!” he said. “When will you marry me?”
Evelyn firmly pushed him back. Her heart beat and her color came and went. To face the crisis was harder than she had thought.
“You mustn’t,” she said. “You know I’m going to marry Kit!”
Ledward smiled and indicated a bench by the fireplace. Nobody was about, and he leaned against the Jacobean carving a yard or two off.
“Was there not a stipulation? Kit must make good? From a practical point of view, he will not do so. Besides, one cannot marry a will-o’-the-wisp. Kit is something like that.”
“At all events, Kit is luminous,” Evelyn rejoined. “He shines in dreary places, and one likes to follow the light.”