"Michael: tell me you are happy."
He had to bend his head to hear that whisper, her lips brushed his cheek with a caress so fugitive and light they might have been a moth's fluttering wings.
"Never so happy, Eve."
"Tell me it shall be always so with us. Surely we can make it so . . ."
For all answer she had the tightened pressure of his arm; and, a little chilled with disappointment, she said no more till, after several minutes, Lanyard was moved to wonder aloud: "This country is all strange to my eyes. Where are you taking me?"
"To a far-away place I hope you'll like."
"How should I not, seeing it is your choice?"
"A little old inn, Michael, tucked away in the loneliest hills. We can be quiet there, and talk."
"Talk?" Lanyard made a sad stab at humour, hoping thereby to divert her. "Is it kind to encourage my besetting vice?"
"I think," Eve answered, "you have something to tell me tonight."