They walked along the Embankment, and away from it towards Westminster Abbey. There was a service going on inside, and through the open doors they could hear the wonderful strains of the organ.
Marie stopped to listen—she loved music, and Chris stopped, too, though he fidgeted restlessly, and drew patterns with his stick on the dusty path at his feet.
When they walked on again he said abruptly:
"We've got on very well since you came home—eh, Marie Celeste?"
Her dark eyes were raised to his face.
"Oh, Chris! Of course!"
He frowned a little.
11 "I mean—do you think we should always get on as well?" he asked, with an effort.
She was miles away from understanding his meaning, but something in his voice set her heart beating fast. When she tried to answer, her voice died away helplessly.
Christopher looked down at her, then he said with a rush: "The fact is—I mean—will you marry me?"