“Is that a hit at Gillian and me? I know—June told us—that you were horribly opposed to anyone’s coming here for the summer. I thought that you had got over that by now?”
“So I have”—bluntly.
“Then we’re not—not unwelcome visitors any longer?” the soft, tantalising voice went on. The low cadence of it seemed to tug at his very heartstrings.
He leaned nearer to her and, catching both her hands in his, twisted her round so that she faced him.
“Why do you ask?” he demanded, his voice suddenly roughened and uneven.
“Because I wanted to know—of course!”—lightly.
“Then—you’re not an unwelcome visitor. You never have been! From the moment you came the place was different somehow. When you go——”
He stopped as though startled by the sound of his own words—struck by the full significance of them.
“When you go!” he repeated blankly. His grip of her slight hands tightened till it was almost painful. “But you won’t go! I can’t let you go now! Magda—”
The situation was threatening to get out of hand. Magda drew quickly away from him, springing to her feet.