Marie laughed, but she was glad that he could not see her face.
"Of course, it's true," she said. "I have never had such a good time in my life."
A more observant man would have heard the flatness of her voice, but Chris only heard what he wanted to hear, and it gave him a sense of relief. If she was happy, that was all right. He thought things had arranged themselves admirably. Marriage was not going to be the tie he had dreaded, after all.
"Mrs. Heriot wants me to play a round of golf with her this 57 afternoon." he said after a moment. "Do you mind?"
"Of course not. Please go. I shall be all right; I am going to take my book down on the sands."
"Very well—don't overtire yourself." He laid his hand on her shoulder for a moment and then walked away.
Marie sat staring at the finished letter before her. Would Aunt Madge be as blind as Chris, she wondered. She thrust it into an envelope and took it to the post.
The weather was still holding fine. The days were hot and sunny and the nights moonlit.
Last night at dinner she had asked Chris to take her for a walk. It was the first time she had asked anything of him since their marriage, but she had peeped at the moonlit sands and sea from her window as she was dressing for dinner and a sudden longing to walk through its silvery radiance with Chris had seized upon her.
"Come out with you? Why, of course!" Chris said in quick response. "I promised to play Feathers a hundred up at half-past eight, but that won't take long, and we can go afterwards."