"Then I will come to-night."
She flounced her white skirts out of the dust.
"Only come if it please you."
"Why, it pleases me," smiled Lord Lyndwood.
They were nearing St. James's Park. Very pleasantly the evening light glimmered in the fresh leaves of the limes and chestnuts and lay in flakes of gold on the lake, where the white ducks swam. Long pale shadows trailed over the gravel walks and close grass lawns; here and there the red and pink of the hawthorns starred the green.
For a little while the actress was silent. When they reached the edge of the water she looked up at her companion; her wide straw hat cast half her face into the shade and the red strings tied at her throat showed off the whiteness of her round chin.
"You are going to be married, I am told."
"The town knows it," he replied.
"At last!" laughed Frances Beale. "Well, I wish you happiness."
He turned a glance on her that checked her laughter.