“Yes, indeed—and I’ll wear it if you insist upon it.”
“But I don’t,” she told him. “I shouldn’t know you if you did.”
He led her at a brisk pace—to meet his long strides she had to break into a run now and again. But she was prouder of his company than of any she had had yet, and caught herself humming airs by the way. There was indeed heaps to say. She plunged into her stored reminiscences as a boy into a pool—went in deep and rose shaking her head, breasting the flood.
“I must tell you—I believe I saw you on my wedding day! From the train—just a glimpse. I saw the Ghost plodding along—Bingo running in the grass—you were sitting on the tilt, smoking, of course. You were in white. Were you there? It must have been you. We had passed Swindon, I know—it was before we got to Bath. You were going West, and so was I—so were we, I mean. I wondered if we should meet out there—Exeter? Were you there? Oh—and I mustn’t forget. It is the most important of all. He—my husband—took me to the Land’s End.”
He looked down quickly at her. “When were you there?”
“In October. It was about the middle of October. Do you mean to say——?”
“I was there in November,” said Senhouse, “and stayed till February—there or thereabouts. I am always there for the winter. I have business there.”
She had put her hand to her side. Her eyes spelled ecstatic conviction. “I knew it—I felt it. How wonderful!”
“What’s your wonder, my friend?”
“Why, that I should have seen you there!”