"That's what I told her; I said I knew I should be quite safe with you."
"Thank you." She looked up, surprised by the gravity of his voice, but he was not looking at her, and his ugly profile was a little hard and stern.
It was a silent drive, but Marie gave a little cry of delight, when at last a curve in the road brought them within sight of the river.
"There's an inn further down the road where we can leave the car and get a punt," Feathers said. "Then well get up in the backwater and have lunch."
Marie's face was glowing and she looked like a child who has unexpectedly come across an illuminated Christmas tree.
"I never knew there were such lovely places in the world," she said. When Feathers had run the car into the yard adjoining the inn she went down to the river, and stood on the small, rough wooden landing-stage, looking down at the silently flowing water with dreamy eyes.
It was so peaceful, so restful, with the soft sound of the breeze in the trees and tall rushes, and the sensuous lap of the water 168 against the boats moored to the landing-stage.
And again the thought went through her mind—what a lovely world it would be if one could only have things just a little, little bit different!
Feathers brought an armful of cushions from the boathouse, put the luncheon hamper on board, and stripped off his coat preparatory to starting business.
He pushed off from the landing-stage, and let the punt drift down stream. He was a square, strong figure standing up against the cloudless sky, and a thought that had often crossed Marie's mind came again as she looked at him: What a kind man he could be to some woman, and how happy some woman could be with him!