She put her hands up slowly to his shoulders.
"Father," she said, "you will never know what you have been to me, never in this world."
"I do," he answered; "I know—well."
"And I couldn't bear that you should be anything but just what you have been always."
"I never shall be anything else," he answered, and stooped and kissed her. "We won't tell Hannah about this," he went on, "and I don't suppose Margaret will. There's no reason to make a mystery of it; if it comes out, well and good, but if not we can be silent."
"I'd rather she didn't know," Mrs. Vincent answered, "unless she finds it out; she'd only be talking and thinking things I wouldn't bear."
Meanwhile Towsey and Hannah were clearing away the tea things: Margaret went out to the porch and looked at the garden and the beechwood she loved rising high beyond it. Mr. Garratt cast a quick glance towards the kitchen, and in a moment he was by her side.
"Are you inclined for a little stroll, Miss Vincent?"
His eyes said more than his words. She went a step forward and stood by a lilac bush.
"No," she said, "I am going in directly."