“Well, if mother knew about it; if it was public she’d have to support the family, of course. But really in her heart of hearts what she wants is that I should be happy. She’d much rather have that than anything else; so that if we are married and it’s too late for anyone to say anything, and she sees that we are happy, then it will be all right, but she mustn’t know until afterwards.”
Tony stopped, but Janet said nothing. Then he went on: “You see there was a sort of idea with people, before we came down here, that I should get engaged to some one. It was more or less an understood thing.”
“Was there, is there anyone especially?” asked Janet.
“Yes; a Miss Du Cane. We’d been pals for a long time without thinking about marriage at all; and then people began to say it was time for me to settle down, and rot like that—and she seemed quite suitable, and so she was asked down here.”
“Did you care about her?”
“Oh! like a friend, of course. She’s a jolly good sort, and used to be lots of fun, but as soon as all this business came into it she altered and it became different. And then I saw you, and there was never more any question of anyone else in all the world.”
Tony dropped the oars and let the boat drift. He caught her golden hair in his hands and twined it about his arm. He bent down and touched her lips. She leaned up towards him and they clung together. About them the sea was a golden flame, the sky was a fiery red, the country behind them was iron black. The boat danced like a petal out to sea.
Then, with her arm about his neck, Janet spoke again. “Your father would like you to marry this lady?” she asked.
“Yes. He thinks that I am going to.”
“Ah! now I understand it all. You cannot tell them, of course; I see that. We must do it first and tell them afterwards. And father will never consent. I am sure of it. Oh, dear! what fun! we must go away secretly; it will be an elopement.”