She looked down, blushing suddenly.
“Are they? I hadn’t noticed.”
Something in her tone had made Daniel take the books from the pile on her arm. It was a set, prayer-book and hymnal bound in one and prettily mounted. He slipped the clasp and opened them. A faded pansy slipped between the pages. He clasped it hastily and handed it back.
“I thought I knew them,” he said hastily.
“Yes?” Virginia’s eyes avoided his. Her lips were trembling, he thought. “I’ve had them a long time. William—your brother—gave them to me when I was just sixteen.”
“I wonder,” said Daniel, looking up at the old church, “how long ago they planted that English ivy! There’s a perfect mantle of it, isn’t there?”
“Grandfather says the old rector planted it—the one who married grandfather and grandmother in this very church.”
“I suppose he did as much for my grandparents,” said Daniel. “I wonder if they gave him a good fee!”
“Oh, you lawyer!” cried Virginia, and laughed happily.
But Daniel continued to look at the ivy. He had seen her face.