There was a little silence.
"Are you going by the morning train?" Feathers asked presently.
"No, after lunch, I think; we shall be home about five."
She looked up at him wistfully. "Have you got a headache?" she asked in concern. "You look as if you have."
He laughed.
"No. I don't indulge in such luxuries, but I didn't sleep particularly well last night."
"A guilty conscience?" Marie said, teasingly.
"Probably." He stepped out into the sunny garden. "Shall we go for a stroll, as it's your last morning?"
She followed at once.
"That sounded so horrid," she said, with a half sigh. "My last morning! It sounds as if I were going to be executed or something."