"Well, yes, I suppose it was," he answered.
She thought his voice sounded insincere.
"I almost wonder," he added, "that you did not suggest our coming here for our honeymoon."
"I thought of it. I wanted to."
"Then why didn't you?"
"I felt as if the right time had not come, as if I had to wait."
"And now the right time has come?"
"Yes, now it has come."
She tried to speak with energy. But her voice sounded doubtful. That curious look in his eyes had filled her with an unwonted indecision, had troubled her spirit.
The old gardener, who had white whiskers and narrow blue eyes, came down the path under the curving pergola, carrying a bunch of white and red roses in his earthy hand.