After this comment a detailed overhauling of the address in question was commenced, with Keble dictating and Louise, insinuating metaphors in the local vernacular. Dare from his deck chair in the distance watched or dozed until the boat had departed.
“How is the campaign progressing?” he asked after one prolonged consultation.
“Splendidly. Keble and Miriam are up to their neck in statistics. They go to Witney to-morrow for a preliminary duster . . . Papa says we’ll be out of quarantine before election day.”
Dare watched her silently for some time. “Why do you always bracket their names? You seem to do it deliberately, as though it were a difficult phrase which you were bent on mastering.”
“It may be.”
“You can confess to me, you know. We’ve proved at least that.”
She patted his hand.
“May I guess out loud?” he asked.
She nodded.
He paused to choose his words. “You feel that Keble and Miriam have grown to depend on each other in some way analogous to the way in which you and I depended on each other.”