“It goes to my heart,” said Philip.
“All the same, you may feel the worse for it to-morrow morning,” said Marion, with one of her short laughs.
“A heartache instead of a headache,” smiled Mr. Grant.
“Heartache would come only from being denied it,” Philip rejoined.
“I must try and get you some of it to drink at home,” said guileless Mrs. Lockhart.
“ ’Tis Lafitte—you may get it anywhere,” put in Marion. As she spoke she pushed back her chair from the table, adding, “Come, mamma, we have had enough; let us go out on the terrace.” So she triumphed over Philip in having the last word.
The afternoon was mellowing toward evening by the time the unexceptionable waiter announced that the carriage and horses were waiting. As Philip helped Marion to her seat he said:
“After all, it is not so long a ride round the world, is it?”
She answered: “I don’t know. We are not got home yet, remember.”
Going down the hill, they halted at the spot whence they had first caught the view on ascending, to take a farewell look at it. A noise of hoofs following down the road above caused Philip to look around, and he saw approaching the same lady and gentleman whom he had caught a glimpse of in the park that morning. The blood flew to his face, and he set his teeth against his lips.