Rachel turned from him. Looking out into the beautiful sunshine, she saw a busy little bevy of white butterflies skim past the window; a bird sang persistently, sweetly; it was free, it was good to be free. Her hands trembled in her lap; she did not look back at him.
"It will be only a marriage in name," she forced herself to say. "I'll try to interfere with your life as little as I can and I shall expect you to consider my feelings too."
"I quite understand."
There was again a painful silence, then they both heard Eva's laugh, an exceedingly sweet, light-hearted, care-free laugh that was her characteristic. It came to them from the tennis-court and Belhaven shuddered. Rachel rose, steadying herself with a hand on the back of the chair.
"I believe there's nothing more to say," she said gently.
He had risen too. "The marriage?" he asked, hesitatingly.
She turned white to the lips. "Johnstone has set next Thursday; these people leave to-morrow and Wednesday; would you—" She looked up; for one wild moment she felt that she must appeal to him to be man enough to save her.
But his answer killed the last faint hope. "Any time will do," he said, avoiding her eyes.
She turned away with a slight gesture of despair; there was nothing to hope from such a man as this, and she went quietly to the door. As she reached it, he came quickly over and opened it for her. He had been like a man in a dream and now his face flushed deeply again.
"I humbly beg your pardon," he said hoarsely.