Elizabeth was silent. Then:
“Where is the man now?” she asked.
“Staying at the Green Man,” said John. “I’ve had to take a room there for you. You’ll breakfast at the inn, and have the rest of your meals with us. I am sorry there isn’t another room at the White Cottage.”
“Don’t apologize,” said Elizabeth gaily. “I came down to picnic. It’s I who should apologize for thrusting myself upon you.”
“That,” said John decidedly, “is pure nonsense.”
They were ascending a hill by now. Twilight was falling rapidly. Bats flew through the dusk, their shrill queer note breaking the silence. A great white owl flew noiselessly, like a huge moth, across a field. The road was a white line between dark hedges.
Coming to the top of the hill, wide stretches of moorland lay around them. Far off on the horizon was a strip of silver-grey sea. In the middle distance was a hill, wood-covered, dark towers rising among the trees.
“Delancey Castle,” said John.
CHAPTER XXXI
IN THE EARLY MORNING
If, as I remarked at the beginning of a preceding chapter, John thought it a funny world, it is very certain that David would have fully endorsed his opinion; and, further, he would have considered himself the queerest person in it.