"If—you will have me, Louis," she whispered.
"I don't love you. I'm rather nearer than I ever have been just now. But I am not in love."
"Could you ever—"
"Yes."
"Then—why—"
"I'll tell you why, some day. Not now."
They had come to where their horses were tied. He put her up, adjusted boot-strap and skirt, then swung gracefully aboard his own pie-faced Tallahassee nag, wheeling into the path beside her.
"The world," observed Malcourt, using his favourite quotation, "is so full of a number of things—like you and me and that coral snake yonder.... It's very hard to make a coral snake bite you; but it's death if you succeed.... Whack that nag if he plunges! Lord, what a nose for sarpints horses have! Hamil was telling me—by the way, there's nothing degenerate about our distant cousin, John Garret Hamil; but he's not pure pedigree. However, I'd advise him to marry into some fresh, new strain—"
"He seems likely to," said Virginia.
After a moment Malcourt looked around at her curiously.