“There is going to be a mighty effort.”
“Get up!”
He obeyed. As their eyes met, he smiled, but with a frown she pointed toward the cottage. “Turn around and walk humbly with your head down. You are not to speak until spoken to. And you are to be in disgrace for three days.”
“Go ahead.”
And again he obeyed.
Elinor was firm. For three days the disgrace endured. But it was not of a nature to demolish hope or even to retard digestion. And Solomon, who was a keen observer, displayed no unusual sympathy, and evidently failed to realize that his master was in any serious trouble.
On pleasant evenings Pats and Elinor often went to the beach below and sat upon the rocks, always attended by Solomon, the only chaperon at hand. Here they were nearer the water. And one evening they found much happiness in watching a big, round moon as it rose from the surface of the Gulf. The silence, the shimmer of the moonlight on the waters–all tended to draw lovers closer together. Already the heads of these two people were so near that the faintest tone sufficed. And they murmured many things–things strictly between themselves, that would appear of an appalling foolishness if repeated here–or anywhere. They also talked on serious subjects; subjects so transcendentally serious as to be of interest only by night. Like all other lovers they exchanged 146confidences. Once, when Pats was speaking of his family she suddenly withdrew her hand. “By the way, there is something to be explained. Tell me about that interview with your father.”
“Which interview?”
“The disgraceful, murderous one.”