The opening was patent. She was beginning to nod her acquiescence when Connor, in alarm, tapped on the table, once and again in swift telegraphy: "No! No!"
The faint smile went out on her face.
"No," she said to David.
The master of the Garden turned a glance of impatience and suspicion upon the gambler, but Connor carefully made his face a blank. He continued to drum idly on the edge of the table, and the idle drumming was spelling to the girl's quick ear: "Out!"
"You cannot stay?" murmured David.
She drank in his stunned expression. It was like music to her.
"Would you," she said, "be happy away from the Garden, and the horses and your servants? No more am I happy away from my home."
"You are not happy with us?" muttered David. "You are not happy?"
"Could you be away from the Garden?"
"But that is different. The Garden was made by four wise men."