At last Beatrice said, "Let us go into the garden," and he rose briskly at the command. She allowed him to help her with her cloak, and then said, laughing: "But Tony has your coat! What will you do?"
"I shan't need one," he replied. "It's a lovely night."
"You will," she insisted. "I can't have you catching cold. I'll tell Forbes——"
"No, really," he protested, and threw open the door. "See, what a glorious night it is! There's not the least need."
She did not press the point, for indeed it was a night for lovers. There was not a breath of wind in the air, no sound of the works of man to mar the stillness. From a distant field came the dim wheezing of a corn-crake; nearer at hand a nightingale was beginning his epithalamic welcome. A light dew was falling, but nothing to hurt a lover and his lass, full of health and joyousness. The trees did not even sigh a greeting: the solemn hush made them imagine that nature herself was holding her breath in friendly expectation, waiting to hear the old tale in the newest words, ready to break out into a chorus of free congratulation. Already Lionel could hear the leaves whispering the gay tidings, every blade of grass passing on the news, the grasshoppers and glowworms waking their more sleepy fellows to tell them Beatrice was here and had said she loved him, the birds waiting happily in their nests till the first kiss sounded, and then tucking in their heads with a jolly "So that's all right at last!" He wanted to say "Thank you" to the world of beasts and trees and flowers, and presently to the world of men and women.
"Smoke, do!" said Beatrice, as he dragged a couple of the chairs upon the gravel. "And don't interrupt more than you can help. I'll tell you the essential facts as shortly as I can. Details we can talk over later ... if there is to be a 'later.'"
He lighted a cigarette and was silent.
"Most of the tale I told you," she began abruptly, "was all lies. Some was true. I was, for instance, well-off as regards money, when I was left an orphan at sixteen. I was brought up by some hateful relations and launched two years later. I got sick of society in a couple of years, and cut it for pleasanter paths. I tried painting, but it bored me. Then the stage—that part was true—and made a success....
"It wasn't enough. I wanted more interest, more reality in life. I didn't find it—I haven't quite found it yet, but I think I'm on the way to it. I wanted romance, too. I also wanted fun. Oh, yes! I wanted a lot, there's no doubt about that.... Presently I determined I wanted a husband....
"Does that sound odd from a girl's lips? Well, it's true, and I don't care much about anything except truth just now. I set to work deliberately to find some one I could love and who would love me. Are you shocked?" she asked quickly.