“He does. Oh! I'm quite appreciated, I assure you.”
Tim made no reply, but stared out of the window. The car rounded the corner into Park Lane; in another moment they would reach their destination. Suddenly he turned to her, his face rather strained-looking.
“And—the other man? Have you met him yet—at Monkshaven?”
There was no mistaking his meaning. Sara's eyes met his unflinchingly.
“If you mean has any one asked me to marry him—no, Tim. No one has done me that honour,” she answered lightly.
“Thank God!” he muttered below his breath.
Sara looked troubled.
“Haven't you—got over that, yet?” she said, hesitatingly. “I—I hoped you would, Tim.”
“I shall never get over it,” he asserted doggedly. “And I shall never give you up till you are another man's wife.”
The quiet intensity of his tones sounded strangely in her ears. This was a new Tim, not the boyish Tim of former times, but a man with all a man's steadfast purpose and determination.