“When we come to Reading, Jon, get out first and go down to Caversham lock and wait for me. I'll send the car home and we'll walk by the towing-path.”
Jon seized her hand in gratitude, and they sat silent, with the world well lost, and one eye on the corridor. But the train seemed to run twice as fast now, and its sound was almost lost in that of Jon's sighing.
“We're getting near,” said Fleur; “the towing-path's awfully exposed. One more! Oh! Jon, don't forget me.”
Jon answered with his kiss. And very soon, a flushed, distracted-looking youth could have been seen—as they say—leaping from the train and hurrying along the platform, searching his pockets for his ticket.
When at last she rejoined him on the towing-path a little beyond Caversham lock he had made an effort, and regained some measure of equanimity. If they had to part, he would not make a scene! A breeze by the bright river threw the white side of the willow leaves up into the sunlight, and followed those two with its faint rustle.
“I told our chauffeur that I was train-giddy,” said Fleur. “Did you look pretty natural as you went out?”
“I don't know. What is natural?”
“It's natural to you to look seriously happy. When I first saw you I thought you weren't a bit like other people.”
“Exactly what I thought when I saw you. I knew at once I should never love anybody else.”
Fleur laughed.