"Oh, nothing, of course," he replied hastily. "Only sometimes the unexpected may arrive, may it not?"
"Don't talk like that," she cried impetuously. "It would be too dreadful, if anything stopped us just at the beginning—just as we are making a start. Oh, do you remember——" She broke off short.
"I remember every single smallest thing you ever did or said," he threw out suddenly.
"Then you remember when you and I had lunch together at the Savoy. I bored you horribly by trying to make conversation, when you didn't want to talk; and you told me that you knew all about me, as if you had known me all my life. I didn't think it was true," she laughed, playing with a fork and not daring to look at him. "Do you think it was?"
"It was as false, as detestable, as mistaken, and as insulting as all the other things I said that day," was his energetic answer.
She looked up then, and smiled at him. She was beginning to adjust her ideas.
"Then you are not thinking of sending me away?" she begged to know.
"Put that completely out of your head."
"If that is so, it will be the greatest fun to set to work upon the garden." She paused, recollected herself. "Will that interest you too? I beg your pardon for asking, but I do know so ridiculously little about you; and, you see, your garden doesn't look as if you liked gardens, if you will forgive me for saying it."
"I've been so lonely," he answered meekly. "There was nobody who cared whether the garden was nice or not. If you care, why I shall take the most tremendous interest in it."