“I was so frightened,” she said, “I thought—” and covered her eyes with her hands, shuddering.
He caught them in his, and stood looking down upon her dark head. He could see the little fluffy hair on her neck, and her shoulders heaving softly. He was too happy to speak; and he was afraid—afraid of the passionate words that rose to his lips. The dry leaves of the olive tree rustled crisply over their heads, and from the road below came the tinkle of cowbells.
Voices broke in upon their silence. They went down in answer to Mrs. Travis’s calling, and as they went, Giles said softly—
“Whatever comes, dear, this has been the hour of my life.”
They drove home without stopping at the villa, putting Nielsen down at the Ventimiglia station. He had been very silent on the return journey. He said to Jocelyn when he left them—
“I must get back to Monte Carrlo, you know, and appease the Fates for my desertion.”
As they passed the last hill into Mentone the evening light was already spreading, mellow and soft, over the town, and the sun was dying behind the Esterelles. The tired little horses, toiling up the steep ascent, nodded their heads diligently.
Jocelyn and Giles got out to walk. Half-way up, Jocelyn stopped and stretched out her arms, saying with a sigh—
“Look! The evening is coming over everything, like a cool blessing, gentle—gentle—”
“Yes!” said Giles. Their eyes met for one moment, and not another word was said.