“Darling,” he said, and bent to kiss her.
They walked towards the clump of trees where Luke had left a knapsack containing various eatables. They were simple enough—a couple of packets of sandwiches, a couple of pieces of cake, and a flask of claret. He was not the man to burden himself with unnecessary food.
Sybil sat down on the grass, leaning back against a tree-trunk.
“I wish we could stay on here,” she said. “It would be infinitely pleasanter than going back to town.”
“Infinitely,” said Luke, taking a great bite of chicken sandwich.
“Then why not write and tell your people that we can’t come, and that we’re staying on here.”
Luke laughed. “Because, darling, there is no earthly reason beyond our own inclination to prevent us going back to London. And I promised my parents that we would come to them during the last part of July. They go down to Henley in August, and their cottage is too small to take us in there.”
Sybil pouted. “Can’t you get out of it, though?” she said. “I could sprain my ankle, or break my leg, or something, and be unable to travel.”
Luke frowned. “I don’t like to hear you say that, Sybil. Of course you don’t mean it, but that you should even suggest in fun that you could make an untrue statement——”
Sybil interrupted him quickly. “Of course I didn’t mean it, Luke darling. It was only rather a stupid bit of nonsense. I wouldn’t break our promise for worlds, and you know I love your people. It was just the thought of this heavenly place that tempted me. Besides, I have you to myself up here. I’m not sharing you with anyone.“